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Some Little of the Angel Still Left 


A NOVEL 


BY 







a 


“In whatever situation man may be, he is still an object of Divine con- 
cern, and to recommend himself to the favor of the Pre-existent Cause, he 
must comply with the purposes of his creation; and by proper care and 
diligence, he can recover those immaculate powers with which he was 
naturally endowed.”— Plato 


CTNCTNNATT 
ROBERT CLARKE 




1893 



Copyright, 1893. 


By ROBERT CLARKE & CO, 


TO THE BELOVED MEMORY 

OF 

JOHN M. CLAY 


THIS VOLUME IS INSCRIBED 


WITH THE ETERNAL TRUTH OF MY HEART’S BEST AFFECTIONS 


“ He was a man, take him for all in all, 
I shall not look upon his like again.” 




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CONTENTS 


Bon Voyage la Compagnie 7 

Cupid Defied 13 

Kesmet Tekmil Olahjak 18 

Pas Encore 24 

En Garde 30 

An Aristocratic Game 39 

Meditations 46 

Hostilities Deferred 52 

Mr. Winsdall's Compliments 62 

A Training Stable 70 

Don Juan “At Home” 82 

Light Skirmishing 94 

Sympathy Pursued 101 

We couldn’t Recover the Sausage 106 

Trouble Ill 

The City of Paris Handicap — Four-mile Heats — Free for 

All 122 

“ Recovering his Wings, Flies Away to his Kindred Star.” 130 

Faint Heart ne’er Won Fair Lady 135 

Good Resolves Capitulate 141 

Who Wins? 153 

The Boy with the Bow.... 159 

If it Please God, I will Return 169 

Honor Bright 173 

Venus Victrix 182 

(v) 


VI 


Contents. 


A Talisman 

Old Mat makes the Acquaintance or the Vice-Admiral... 

A Bivouac ! 

All is Wei.l 

Charge, Englishmen.. 

The Beautifui. White Symbol 

England, Forever 

Nil Desperandum 

JUSQUE A LA MoRTE 

Vive L’ Amour 


190 

193 

203 

207 

211 

216 

221 

229 

234 

241 


SOME LITTLE OF THE ANGEL STILL LEFT. 


CHAPTER I. 

BON VOYAGE LA COMPAGNIE. 

“There was a sound of revelry by night, 

And Belgium’s capital had gathered then 
Her beauty and her chivalry, and bright 
The lamps shone o’er fair women and brave men.” 

Go back with me, reader, a. d. 185-, and witness a 
scene resembling an enchanted pageant : 

The Empress of the French is holding a ball, and 
the Palace of the Tuileries is blazing in the softened 
radiance shed from myriads of wax lights. 

Beautiful women are trailing their silken robes and 
flashing in jewels; while the presence of numerous 
members of the various Cor^s Diplomatique^ wearing 
their glittering orders, and the multitude of officers 
belonging to the Allied Army in their variegated 
uniforms, give to the occasion an extraordinary splen- 
dor. 

Slightly withdrawn from the changing throngs 
stands an elderly member of the Home Ministry, con- 
versing with a lady of wondrous beauty. 

Her form is sufficiently tall and massive for an Am- 
azon queen. Her soft ivory flesh is of dazzling white- 
ness, save where the faintest pink tinges her oval 

(7) 


8 


Some Little of the Angel Still Lift. 

cheeks. The bright blue eyes glitter with the hard 
luster of burnished steel, and the matchless curves of 
her red lips are not tender, and no dimples lurk 
around the firm, well-rounded chin. Her tawny hair 
gleams like gold, and is without ornament, and neither 
does necklace nor bracelet fiash from the peerless 
throat and arms. And, if her dress of some white 
material, almost severe in its simplicity, and the en- 
tire absence of gems and fiowers — potent auxiliaries 
to female charms — do not denote conscious beauty, 
it is clearly expressed in her haughty, half-mocking 
bearing. 

And, although, but three and twenty years have 
passed over the brilliant beauty of that proud head, 
Gabrielle la Marquise (V Hebert had been wedded and 
widowed. 

The severance by death of her marriage chain had 
left her in the possession of rank and wealth; and 
none to look upon her regal beauty and the imperial 
glances of her bright eyes could guess how the gyves 
of that chain had worn into her heart, and what cru- 
elly galling wounds had been left. 

Many another woman would have emerged from 
the same ordeal through which she had passed and 
been so sorely wounded, unscathed, and with eyes, 
though they had shed tears in plenty, yet could still 
look kindly, and with hearts unchangeably warm, 
sweet, and pure. 

But this woman had been formed in a different 
mold, and under happier stars what wealth of love 
like a crown of glory would have shed its radiance 
over her domestic fireside. But ruin had been wrought 


9 


Bon Voyage la Compagnie. 

ere the building of such an edifice ; and would artificer 
now ever he able to force those lines so well and truly 
guarded by a vigilant and jealous armed neutrality, 
and erect the shining temple with its stately columns 
and rich facades? 

Too late,” is the mournful answer why so many 
hitter, human sorrows are not reversible. And, when 
bright-eyed Hope has extinguished her torch ‘ and 
trailed it through the waters of Marah, can it ever he 
relighted ? — Jamais ! jamais ! 

Marriages of convenience are the rule in France, 
and rarely occasion either surprise or comment, public 
opinion concurring in the sentiment that a brilliant 
establishment is a full equivalent to a good many 
desagrements ; and the average French demoiselle duti- 
fully accepts the husband provided for her by her par- 
ents, and, when necessary, make the best of a had 
bargain — gracefully. This only relatively concerns 
the young girl (of whom we shall hear more) who, 
when only sixteen years of age, was taken from the 
pensionat by her parents and wedded to the Marquis 
d^Hehert^ a nobleman of great wealth, hut of .a char- 
acter so notoriously had that he was shunned by even 
respectable men. 

This union of innocent girlhood to mature iniquity 
seemed so revolting to Monsieur le Ministre de Finance^ 
who occupied a contiguous residence to the English 
family which so long ago had migrated and estab- 
lished a permanent home across the channel, and al- 
most from her birth had known the youthful Gahrielle 
and loved her for her frequent visits and offerings of 
fruits and flowers to his invalid wife, ‘‘Chere Madame'' 


10 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

that, undeterred hy that which he was given to under- 
stand was considered to he an un warrantable intru- 
sion,” he remonstrated and pleaded against the un- 
holy marriage.” 

His well-meant opposition did not hinder or delay 
the rite, but it gained for him the gratitude and life- 
long friendship of the poor victim sacrificed to the 
avarice of those who, under heaven, should have sac- 
rificed all for her. 

Gabrielle was not a patient French girl, and did not 
submit without frantic opposition ; and bitter was her 
expression of resentment after the fastening of her 
shackles and when leaving the parental roof : ‘‘You, 
my father, and my mother, have put me up to the 
highest bidder — sold your own flesh and blood! I 
am now leaving you forever — but I will not kiss you — 
I will not even shake hands with you — and I will 
never speak to you again so long as I live.” 

Embarked on a tumultuous sea on a voyage of in- 
evitable sorrows, inevitable difficulties, inevitable dan- 
gers, how pitying and tender was the kindness she 
experienced from her one true friend, le ministre. 

Ho father ever watched over a dear daughter more 
anxiously, and he soon had the gratification to mark, 
rapidly developed, a force of character that invested 
the young creature, scarce more than a child, with the 
womanly dignity that commanded respect. And, 
though with exterior calmness she accepted her des- 
tiny, no Indian at the stake endured with unflinching 
fortitude more acute tortures. Only in the silent 
hours of night, with her pillow wet with tears, would 
come that despairing cry from her aching, proud 


11 


Bon Voyage la Compagnic. 

heart — “ My shame ! my shame ! I am manacled to it. 
It will never depart from me.” 

Soon, while she was yet young, her release came, 
and le ministre cherished the hope that her dark past 
would, as a troubled dream, he forgotten, and that the 
springtime of her life, with its natural hopes and joys, 
would make the atonement, and happiness yet he 
hers. 

His own happily-wedded life had so inclined his 
views in favor of matrimony that it was his honest 
opinion that Saint Paul, the most reliable and respect- 
able of all advocates for celibacy, would have led a 
pleasanter, and, if possible, a more useful life, if, from 
among the daughters of men, he had chosen a help- 
meet. 

Thus thinking, and in the over-anxiety that occa- 
sionally afflicts some of the very best of people to es- 
tablish the happiness of their dearest friends on the 
plane of their own — entirely ^overlooking the fre- 
quently prominent circumstance that ‘^one man’s 
meat is another man’s poison ” — le ministre was ex- 
ceedingly anxious to see la belle Gubrielle suitably 
married,” as he phrased it. 

It was impossible, with her face, “ the fairest that 
ere the sun shone on,” that she should not have many 
admirers, and, while accepting any amount of homage 
with gracious coldness, the most deftly-winged arrows 
ever pointed by the officious little god glanced aside 
as from a granite wall. 

The lady feared the flame by which she had been 
scorched. And, so early disillusioned, had grown 
haughty and cold, and, it must be confessed, had devel- 


12 Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

oped into a coquette of the most finished type. “ One 
must be amused,” she laughed, and answered le minis- 
tre, when he raised his voice in protest. 

“Ah! Gabrielley Gabrielle; life has its duties. Why 
Avill you ignore them? You are neither shallow 
enough nor heartless enough to really enjoy your 
present mode of life.” 

Again she laughed pleasantly, and answered, gaily : 
“ True, monsieur., life has its duties, hut I am not now 
in the immediate pursuit of them — 

“ ‘ To dance and flirt, and be admired, 

What sweeter joys could be desired? ’ 

and, mon cher ami., it is only i^our passe les temps 

‘‘‘3Iauvais plaisirs” answered le ministre, gravely 
shaking his head; gave a vous, remember the homely 
proverb, ‘ young chickens still come home to roost.’ ” 


Capid Defied, 


13 


CHAPTER II. 

CUPID DEFIED. 

“ . . I ’d rather make 

My bed upon some frozen lake, 

When the thawing sun begins to shine, 

Than trust a love so false as thine.” 

Gabrielle, how charming the Empress is looking.” 

“ Yes, she is almost the most beautiful person I ever 
saw.” 

“Almost? Well, who is at the apex of your stand- 
ard of perfection ?” 

“ I spoke of beauty only ; perfection signifies much 
more.” 

“Then, who ranks highest in your estimate of 
beauty ?” 

“Do you not know?” asked the lady indifterently, 
as she turned full-facing her companion. 

“Yes, I know — but believe me, ma amie^ other 
ladies would not be quite so ready with such an opin- 
ion.” 

“ Certainly, I am aware it would be more proper 
and becoming to la grande dame to speak falsely, or, 
at least feign ignorance of the good looks which, all 
my life, I have known belonged to me. My nurses 
flattered me and called me jole enfant ; my shoolmates 
were jealous of me ; even the good Sisters at thepen- 
sionat scolded me less for laziness than they would 
have done, I am afraid, had I been deformed 


14 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

“ That may all be true, Gabrielle,” le ministre replied, 
“and it is also true that great personal attraction is 
seldom a good gift to the possessor ; usually there is a 
lack somewhere, and usually it is the heart that is 
dwarfed. You should know something of this your- 
self, Gabrielle, you Avho hav^e never loved.” 

“ You forget the late marquis f the beautiful lips 
wreathed into a contemptuous smile. 

“ I do not forget that he is dead,” was the pointed 
answer. 

“And that we should forget his faults and cherish 
his virtues,” interposed the lady, lightly, “ as was said 
in the Masonic ceremonial with which he was buried, 
or, perhaps,” she continued, “ in the largeness of your 
generosity you may have detected some small virtue 
which I in the years I belonged to him — was his chat- 
tel — failed to notice. Do not look so shocked, monsieur. 
Be reasonable, and do not expect the poor slave, sold 
for a price to a master, odious and exacting, to love the 
master and not to rejoice at freedom. Kind heaven 
emancipated me, but where is the Lethean stream to 
drown bitter memories ? And what recompense can 
there be for the disgraceful wrongs I have suffered?” 

“Ah, Gabrielle, why will you still persist in recurring 
to disagreeable reminiscences ? Why will you not al- 
low the dead past to remain buried ? The future may 
have much in store for you. Respect for my own ve- 
racity prevents a denial of the general wickedness of 
the world — mankind! Yet there are stray bits of 
worth to be found, even among my sin-addicted sex — 
not nonpareils of course, yet of so much that is praise- 
worthy as will form pleasant and safe companions for 


the journey of life.- This journey we are not consti- 
tuted to take alone ; the heart has cravings and neces- 
sities, and will not remain tranquil unless satisfied.” 

A gay smile passed over the lady’s face as she re- 
plied : 

“ I would ask to be informed, monsieur^ as to my 
particular cravings and necessities, if I did not see 
through your wicked motives — always designs against 
my single-blessedness — and, if you were not you, I 
would willingly devote you to destruction without the 
benefit of clergy. But will you never understand how 
sweet my liberty is to me, how I revel in it ? And 
how I shall never part with it, although, I rather en- 
joy the homage of the gentilhommes‘t This homage, 
my acquaintance with the late marquis enables me 
to estimate ad valorem. They fiatter me servilely to 
my face, when behind my back, over their wine cups, 
they amuse themselves by relating on dits connected 
with my matrimonial career. However — later on — ^^as 
a rule, my little account comes up for settlement. 
Most of them have hearts or vanity, whichever it 
is, that can be found and planted with a fe^Y thorns 
making existence for a time uncomfortable — but 
that ’s all, men’s hearts have such recuperative powers 
that they soon get over a bad hurt, almost as good as 
new. And whatever talk there may be of despair 
ends in eating oysters.” 

A low, musical laugh expressed the enjoyment af- 
forded to madame la marqaise by the contemplation of 
masculine affaires de coeur. 

Le ministre did not join in her mirth. A serious. 


16 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

almost sorrowful expression came on his face as he 
asked : Have you no fears for the future ?” 

‘‘ What do you mean, monsieur? Do 3^ou anticipate 
the advent of some Irresistible for whom I will gather 
up the treasures of my heart, of which to make a 
tidy bundle and deposit the mass at his feet, only to 
he told to take it up again and transport it whither I 
list, hut out of his sight ?” — the low rippling laugh 
again tinkled from her lips — ‘‘If such a misfortune 
does befall me I acquit you of responsibility. You 
have warned me, and I shall not feel privileged to ap- 
peal to you for sympathy if ever I find myself in the 
toils of a revengeful Cupid. I will not even trouble 
chere madame with the plaint of a wounded heart.” 
Her railing tones ceased, and a serious interest mani- 
fested itself, as she asked: “When do you leave 
France? Madame told me to-day that her medical 
men recommended German waters.” 

“ Yes,” answered le ministre, “the physicians agree 
that madame s malady now exhibits symptoms of 
amelioration and that great things may be hoped for 
from foreign residence and foreign waters, and yet, 
Gahriellej” he added, with a pained look, “ I can not 
take her. I can not leave Paris even to afitbrd my 
sick wife the chance of a restoration to health until 
this miserable war is over. The Emperor would not 
give me leave of absence, neither could I ask him ; it 
would be inconsistent with the interest of France, 
whose servant I am.” 

“ Would you not trust madame with me ? I am not 
a public servant, and have no reason to fear that the 
affairs of the empire would suffer by my absence. I 


Cupid Defied. 


17 


would be most luippy to convoy ma chere viadame to 
the healing springs and act as head in charge of her 
establishment, also nurse in chief.” 

Ah ! no,” le ministre sighed, madame would never 
leave Paris without me ; neither could I consent to 
see her depart unaccompanied by myself. There is 
nothing else but to wait, hoping that she may grow 
no worse, until such a time when it will please le hon 
Dieu to send us peace. But, I thank you, Gabrielle, 
for the otfer.” 

The conversation now ceas'ed, and the glances of 
both roved over the courtly assembly. 



2 


18 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 


CHAPTER III. 

KESMET TEKMIL OLAHIJAK. 

“ When she will, she will, you may depend on it. 

And when she won ’t, she won ’t, there is an end on it.” 

“Who is that person leaning against yonder col- 
umn, monsieur demanded la marquise. 

As the eyes of le ministre rested upon the individual 
indicated, whose careless, lounging attitude could not 
disguise the fair proportions and trained vigor of a 
stalwart man-at-arms, an expression of extreme dis- 
pleasure immediately came over his features, and it 
was with evident reluctance that he forced himself to 
answer: “ That — that person is Captain Heville.” 

A casual observer would have seen that la marquise 
was instantly interested, as laughingly she asked : 
“Well, who may that — that person. Captain Heville, 
be?” 

“ He belongs to the cavalry of our allies,” answered 
le ministre slowly, and hesitating between his words 
like an unwilling witness under the torture of a se- 
vere cross-examination, “ and is the eldesf — I believe 
— only son of Sir John Neville, wdio is one of the 
most esteemed noblemen in Great Britain. But the 
son has notoriety of a different sort, and is not a de- 
sirable acquaintance for you — or any lady.” 

“ Do not be censorious, monsieur f said la marquise., 
with mock reproach ; “ it is not handsome to repeat 


Kesmet Tekynil Olahijah. 19 

disparaging remarks about our allies. And at this 
distance he is not bad looking. I should like to see 
the mauvais sujet nearer. Bring him here and intro- 
duce him.” 

‘‘ Excuse me if I decline, Gabrielle ; that person is 
utterly unworthy of your notice. No consideration 
would induce me to present him to a lady. And I 
would advise that you stop looking toward him ; he 
has noticed it. See how impertinently he is staring 
at you — the insolent puppy.” 

I hesitate to make the remark, but ladies are greatly 
given to being perverse, and there is not the slightest 
use to deny the fact and call for proofs — they are only 
too ready, from very ancient down to modern times. 
That spirit prompted Eve to eat the forbidden apple ; 
and the same spirit influenced the lady whose husband 
requested her not to ride the watch-dog Jowler.” 
We all know the consequence of the flrst act. The 
descendants of Eve, down to the present time, are 
paying the penalty. And the other headstrong lady 
obtained for herself a black eye (she thought it must 
be so nice to ride Jowler, otherwise there would have 
been no prohibition). The handsome marquise not 
being deflcieiit in this female trait, continued her sur- 
vey of the obnoxious cavalryman with increased in- 
terest. 

He may be a puppy,” she remarked, calmly ; I 
think he is; but he is a very good-looking puppy, 
and evidently he is not overflowing with admiration 
for the crhme de la crhme of the bon ton by which he is 
surrounded. Almost a blind person could see how 
tired of it he is. As I live ! he is actually yawning. 


20 Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

You are too rude, monsieur — your manners want bet- 
tering — and I believe I will give you some instructions 
myself. Monsieur le mmistre, you will really have to 
introduce him.” 

“ Gabrielle, why will you force me to repeat my 
refusal? You are certainly aware that I would not 
oppose your wish but for invincible reasons. These 
reasons,” he contpued, slightly irritated by her levity 
and persistence, “ my age and our relations will justify 
me in stating to you more plainly — if you do not un- 
derstand.” 

‘‘ I understand you perfectly,” answered the willful 
beauty. “ You forget the unusual advantages I en- 
joyed during my intercourse with the late marquis. 
You mean to say that the English monsieur has been 
guilty of intrigues with les dames. So also had le 
Marquis L Hebert — he had many — the piquant details 
of which he was good enough to favor me with.” 

The face of le ministre reddened as he said, in some 
embarrassment : But, with this son of mi lord Xe- 

ville, they were not ordinary instances of — of — misbe- 
havior — the honor of good families suffered; two 
daughters, each of a noble house, were involved in 
overwhelming disgrace by means of an affectionate 
nature — which is woman’s best gift — and their own 
innocence.” 

‘‘ Such innocence was too extreme,” dryly remarked 
la marquise^ “ and it would have been better for them- 
selves and those related to them had they been less 
largely endowed with woman’s best gift — I think 
that ’s what you called it. But the pity of it there 
were no big brothers.” 


Kesmet Tekmil Olahijah. 21 

“ There were big brothers. But one did not suffi- 
ciently understand tierce en carte^ nor was the other 
sufficiently ready with the trigger-finger-, and the 
grief of the already afflicted families was still further 
augmented by the murder of two promising sons. 
The fellow, however,” continued le ministre, who, un- 
der the infiuence of those bright blue eyes so steadily 
regarding him, could not disassociate himself from 
the witness stand, and bound to tell the whole truth, 
‘‘ as I have heard, retains popularity among a few of 
his own order, and the inferior classes are said to 
adore him — considering him a sort of Mirabeau. But 
against him is closed the door of respectable society — 
evidently you must not know him.” 

“Yet, my mind is made up to know him,” persisted 
the lady. “And who knows if esprit de corps may not 
make it worth my while to lay lance in rest for the 
dove-cots, and enter the lists against the bold marau- 
der. I feel in the humor as if I should like to kill 
some thing or at least cause a stampede — and here 
is big game. But, mon ami, you shall have neither 
part nor lot in the fray; for like Henry of the 
Wynd, ‘ I shall fight for my own hand.’ ‘ I doubt 
me if he is a foeman worthy of my steel.’ Yet,” 
she said with a gay laugh, “ a scalp counts, if it is 
an indifterent one.” 

A slight wave of her fan brought to her side an offi- 
cial wearing the French uniform, him she commanded 
to bring to her that dark looking Englishman. 

It has been said that Captain Yeville of H. B. M.’s 
cavalry was exhibiting signs of unmistakable impa- 


22 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

tience. The truth is, that of his own uninfluenced 
will he was not present at the hall. 

With the marvelous scent of a keen sportsman he 
had discovered a retreat presided over by an aristo- 
cratic Frenchman — to which only a favored few could 
gain ingress, by “ special appointment ” — where the 
game of baccarat, “ far from the maddening crowd,’’ 
flourished in all its multiform attractions, unmarred 
by the allowing of small stakes. And any moder- 
ately-viewed devotee would simply have lost his wits 
at the celerity with which vast piles of louisdors would 
appear and disappear — the disappearance generally in 
favor of the polished Frenchman. 

To this haven and panacea for ennui Captain IN'eville 
had planned a visit, and had prevailed upon a brother 
officer. Lieutenant Eaymond, to accompany him. 

The friendship existing between these two oflUcers 
did not go to prove the hypothesis of the agglomera- 
tion of kind. Lieutenant Eaymond was a pure young 
man, whereas, the best friends of the other could lay 
claims to nothing of the kind for him. 

Evils and vices when once put resolutely aside lose 
their meretricious glitter and are comparatively easy 
to avoid. But just give any sin a friendly nod, and in- 
stantly a dangerous and pertinacious acquaintance is 
formed, which requires but few opportunities and only 
a short time to become a tyrant from whom it is difli- 
cult to escape. 

A great deal of persuasion had been requisite 
to obtain young Eaymond’s consent for the rendez- 
vous. But after consenting he was surprised at the 
interest he felt in the affair, and in consequence was 


Kesmet TeJcmil Olahijah. 23 

much annoyed when an unexpected circumstance as- 
sumed a threatening attitude toward the projected 
expedition. 

The colonel in command of the regiment — hut this 
officer was a character of such personal merit as to 
deserve mention in another chapter. - 


/ 


24 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 


CHAPTEE IV. 

PAS ENCORE. 

“Long shall we seek his likeness— long in vain, 

And turn to all of him which may remain, 

Sighing that Nature formed but one such man. 

And broke the die — in molding Sheridan.” 

Colonel Clavering was of the salt of the earth. 
From boyhood to manhood descending into the sere 
and yellow-leaf, duty had been his guiding star — the 
screw-lever regulating all his actions. 

His personal preferences he put aside as unwise and 
dangerous counsels ; and vigorous was his endeavor to 
perform those things which he should do and to re- 
frain from those things he should not do. 

To his queen and country belonged his sword, and 
the exercise of every faculty of his mind and body. 

The declared war might he just or unjust. The 
Czar of Eussia and the Sultan of Turkey might, one 
or both of them, he arch-demons or angels of light. 
These were questions with which he considered him- 
self as having nothing to do — as beyond his province, 
and wisely determined by superior and competent au- 
thority. 

As yet his duties were, when not on parade or at- 
tending to drill, to remain at his quarters supervising 
the equipments of his regiment, inspecting receipts, 
and auditing accounts, and woe to the army-furnisher. 


Pas Encore, 


25 


who, with misplaced confidence that his fingers were in 
an easy stealing place and would therefore add a per 
centum heyond the just and marketable value of any 
commodity — it was a sight to he remembered by evil- 
doers with terror, and grateful satisfaction by the 
righteously disposed to see him pounce upon the 
would-he embezzler. 

The -smallness of the oflfense was no palliation. If 
only a shilling was wrongfully claimed, the intent 
constituted ' crime and deserved punishment — Colonel 
Clavering believing the tendency of such examples 
salutary. 

It had been promulgated, and was well understood 
by the ofiicers of Victoria’s army and navy, that it was 
her majesty’s wish that friendly feelings should be 
cultivated and conciliatory deportment be observed 
in every particular toward her French allies. 

How, if there was one thing on earth from which 
Colonel Clavering turned wfith unconquerable repug- 
nance, from which his very soul shrank, it was an oc- 
casion of courtly etiquette, but he would do that 
which presented itself to him in the form of duty if it 
killed him. Therefore he would don his new uniform 
and hie him to Eugenia’s ball. 

The books of cavalry tactics, of which for many 
years of his life he had made a daily study, were 
English books — books written in the English lan- 
guage; and it had not, therefore, seemed to him nec- 
essary to waste his valuable time — time bestowed 
upon him by an all-wise Creator for self improve- 
ment or usefulness to others, in the acquisition of the 
3 


26 


Some Little of the Arujel Still Left. 

modern or living tongues, obnoxious as they all were 
to changes and imitations. 

Greek and Latin he esteemed highly, and he expe- 
rienced mueh pleasure in being able to peruse the 
classics in their ancient vernacular ; but this did not 
help him the least bit in his present need of the court 
language of the world — the dialect of the moon being 
not more unfamiliar. 

‘‘It is altogether very awkward,’’ he pronounced, 
when thinking over the dilemma. “ I shall have to 
take an interpreter. Young Raymond gabbles French 
like a native. I’ll take him along. It will be doing 
him a kindness — and the lad will be delighted. I 
promised his father to keep an eye over him.” 

And forthwith an orderly was dispatched to com- 
municate Colonel Clavering’s benevolent intentions to 
Lieutenant Raymond. 

That young gentleman was intensely disgusted, and 
unbosomed his sentiments to Captain Neville in a 
style altogether unreserved : 

“ Harry, our sport for the evening is knocked into a 
cocked-hat. Old Iron-clad,” as he termed his com- 
manding officer, “ has taken it into his head to pa- 
tronize Bony’s wife’s ball, and I am to go as inter- 
preter. Is n’t that the dickens ?” 

Captain Neville, who had a broader and more com- 
prehensive mind than his young companion — his ac- 
quaintance with men and things embraced a very 
extensive scope — saw a probable loop-hole for escape, 
replied : 

“ Never fret ahout it, Ray ; it’s a nuisance, of course, 
but the old mutfwill not be in for a long stay. A 


Pas Encore. 


27 


very little of the show will go a long way with him. 
I’ll look in myself; and when our old gentleman 
fdiall have made his how, he will feel at liberty to be- 
take himself in all decent haste to his roost, and we 
will not have lost over an hour.” 

Assuredly Colonel Clavering designed getting 
through the distasteful ceremony with all the celerity 
practicable, and at the earliest moment made his stiff, 
military salute to their imperial majesties. A chronic 
lumbago prevented his bow from having the desired 
lowness, hut he did the best he could, and heard from 
the Emperor’s lips : “ The assembly is very brilliant-^ 
magnificent !” This remark the illustrious personage 
politely endeavored to make to each individual pre- 
sented — but as the throng increased it was not possi- 
ble for one human tongue, although a French tongue 
and gifted with marvelous fluency — frequently half a 
dozen presenters would file before him from the com- 
mencement of the sentence until the finishing mag- 
nificent ” was pronounced. 

Colonel Clavering also heard the opinion expressed 
by the Empress : The war would not be of long con- 
tinuance, and the allied army would return soon, cov- 
ered with glory.” 

This little speech of Eugenia’s contained more 
words than the one of her imperial consort, yet the 
to him impossibility she cleverly attained. Every one 
quitted her gracious presence thinking the remark ad- 
dressed to himself or herself individually. 

Colonel Clavering was now privileged to depart, 
which he was in the act of doing, and had got among 
the outer portals, animated with a glow of satisfaction. 


28 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

as is natural after tlie creditable performance of an 
odious duty; he also felt that he might resume the 
normal length and velocity of stride, restricted by 
courtly etiquette, much to his discomfort — when whom 
should he meet, face to face, but Monsieur le Neil, 
commandant of French engineers. 

Colonel Clavering had been born and reared in 
England, where it is good manners to wait for intro- 
ductions, and he would have hesitated and apologized 
for the emergency of the occasion before informing a 
person with whom he was unacquainted that his 
dwelling was on fire, or that his wife was on the 
point of running away with a chimney-sweep. 

The affable Frenchman was brought up under a 
different regime, and accosted our colonel, in the 
English tongue, with the warmth of bosom friend- 
ship. 

Colonel Clavering could never account for it satis- 
factorily to himself, but his habitual reserve melted, 
thawed like frost in the sun, and the two men were 
soon seated in the recess of an embrasured window 
deep in the discussion as to the superiority of brick- 
work or masonry in the construction of fortifications. 

They were able men, and the subject very near 
their hearts, and both could have talked on, without 
a nod, the livelong night. 

It had quite faded from Colonel Clavering’s mind 
that he had not released Lieutenant Raymond from 
the role of interpreter, and he was profoundly igno- 
rant of that young officer’s internal chafing — nor was 
he conscious of causing Captain ISTeville to rage with 
impatience as he was doing under a not well-disguised 


Pas Encore. 


29 


exterior, when, by the instrumentality of Fate, he at- 
tracted the observation of la marquise. 

At this period of Captain Neville’s existence, fe- 
male loveliness was not his prevailing inclination ; his 
fancy had taken a higher range; horses that ran 
races; men, scientific with fists; chickens that per- 
formed well in the ring, cards, dice, brandy enter- 
tained him now; and he was particularly anxious not 
to miss his appointment at the recherche gaming es- 
tablishment which was rendered very enticing by the 
difiiculty of gaining admittance. 

The unconcerned rudeness of his deportment was 
beginning to excite attention when his restless gaze 
was attracted by the great beauty of la marquise. 

He did not think proper, however, to alter his de- 
meanor, which, in point of fact, was about the same 
he would have used in taking in the condition and 
appearance of a prominent candidate for Derby hon- 
ors, as he continued his observation of the lady. 

By the occasional glances they directed toward 
him, he became aware that he was the subject of con- 
versation between la marquise and le ministre, and 
pretty accurately guessed its drift; nor was he much 
surprised when he saw ynonsieur le ministre turn dis- 
satisfied away and the envoy of la marquise coming 
toward him. He assented to the profiered introduc- 
tion with a smile, not battering, which the lady saw, 
and murmured under her breath : “ Take care, mon- 
sieur.’^ 


30 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 


CHAPTER V. 

EN GARDE. 

“ By the prickings of my thumbs, 

Something wicked this way comes,” 

When Captain IS’eville stood before la mo.rquise mak- 
ing his obeisance, he did not appear so well as when 
seen at a distance. Dissipation had legibly written 
coarse lines upon his handsome features ; and there 
was an expression in his bold black eyes not pleasant 
to see. 

The lady was disappointed, and unreasonably felt 
that she had been imposed upon, and was scarcely civil 
as she acknowledged the introduction. The quick 
flash of her bright eyes clearly giving Captain JS’eville 
to understand that he had been weighed in the bal- 
ance and found wanting — not up to expectation. 

A modest man would have felt, and with reason, 
that his feelings had been unnecessarily wounded. 
Captain Seville was affected to fury, and inquired, in 
not the gentle cadence suited to a ball-room : 

“ Would it be too presuming in me to ask of madame 
la marquise why I have been honored with this extra- 
ordinary notice 

“ Certainly not. I will explain,” she answered with 
a directness unanticipated. “ I was anxious to see 
with my own eyes the person whose successes among 
the ladies, I am told, have been so wonderful.” 


En Garde. 


31 


Calmly slie surveyed him, then continued in the ju- 
dicial tones of a judge addressing a criminal after the 
jury has brought in a verdict of ‘ guilty, without re- 
commendation of mercy/ The English ladies must 
be very impressionable, monsieur^ unless you were not 
generous and invaded schoolrooms, with bon bons in 
your pockets to entice the pretty dears.” 

Captain E'eville bowed sarcastically with an ugly 
sneer and replied : 

I am deeply flattered at the interest madame la 
marquise has taken in my aflairs. I can not express 
my obligations.” 

“ Pray consider my interest satisfled,” said the lady, 
‘‘ and do not distress yourself about your obligations 
to me. Good evening, monsieur le Ca,]ptaine.^^ ITot 
the least among the personal gifts possessed by this 
lady was her voice which had the rare quality of never 
losing its musical intonations while conveying her 
meanings, of whatever nature, with unerring clearness. 

This abrupt dismissal was very mortifying. iN'o 
man likes to quit such a field with a feeling of utter 
route., and though Captain i^eville knew himself to be 
worsted, yet his morale was not entirely broken, and 
it was contrary to his habit to give ground precipi- 
tately; therefore, hastily reforming his lines, so to 
speak, he advanced to the charge straight and gal- 
lantly, if audaciously. Will madame do me the 
honor of dancing with me ?” 

That ’s a waltz,” observed the lady, as the notes of 
11 Bacio began to roar and crash from the brazen in- 
struments. 

“Pardon me,” he said with aftected humility, “hut 


32 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 


I had not supposed that you would have scruples 
about the propriety. 

“ I have no scruples about the propriety,” replied 
she, ‘‘but I have decided scruples about making my- 
self ridiculous. I never waltz with foreigners — that is, 
Americans or English ; the first ho}) around like kan- 
garoos, and the latter find it incredibly hard to get 
around at all.” 

Would it be believed that this great Englishman — 
six feet in his stockings — was vain of his dancing, and 
he experienced a sudden desire to display the accom- 
plishment. 

“ I can waltz,” he said, earnestly. “ I learned in 
Germany, and if madame would only favor me with 
a trial — ” 

“ It is scarcely worth so many words,” answered the 
lady, and forthwith they joined the whirling couples. 

Captain Seville really could waltz, and he flattered 
himself that never before in his life had he appeared 
to such advantage, his partner being the embodiment 
of grace, and catching his step accurately at once. 
His mortification was, therefore, extreme when, after 
they had completed only one circle la marquise 
stopped, disengaged herself and said : 

“ There, that will do, if you please. You do waltz, 
rather nicely — for an Englishman.” 

This was the feather that broke the camel’s back. 
Captain Heville made the shortest possible inclination 
of his lowering visage, and strode away. lie did not 
make many steps before the malignancy of his feel- 
ings impelled him to turn round to glower on the 


En Garde. 


33 


offending marquise, who liad already been rejoined by 
monsieur le ministre, and they both were laugbing. 
“At me,” be said, in a rage. Mentally be added, 
‘‘ D — 11 the woman.” 

Come on, Harry,” said Lieutenant Raymond, in- 
tersecting him obliquely; “we shall be awfully late. 
Our dear colonel lias just departed. I thought he’d 
never go. And, to be explicit in the matter, I deemed 
it my duty to mention an official document awaiting 
his attention. This was of course a ruse, but it was 
successful. 

“ If all the horrors I have gone tbrougb this miser- 
able evening were related in suitable words they 
Avould make each particular hair stand on end — taking 
it for granted I bad a feeling bearer. 

“ I might have absconded at the moment Colonel 
Clavering was taken possession of by llonsieur le Neil; 
but desertion is not a frequent crime in our British 
army, and seeing the French uniforms so largely pre- 
ponderating over ours, it seemed to me a patriotic 
thing to do to mingle in the crowd. Therefore, I 
meandered from salon to salon, benignant and affable, 
perfectly removed from considerations of self, until I 
found myself to be a fixed star between two French 
ladies, who, between ourselves, were neither so young 
and handsome as, let us hope, they once bad been. 

“ I did not sulk at the situation, as you would have 
done ; on the contrary, being satisfied that I only was 
to blame, for I bad no reasonable grounds to suppose 
that the ladies bad contrived the dilemma, I felt it in- 
cumbent upon me to be as agreeable as was in my 


34 Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

power; and if my efforts were humble they were 
well-intentioned, and deserved a happier ending. 

“ The ladies proved to he singularly exempt from 
stiffness and reserve, and met my polite advances 
gushingly, if it is permissible for me to say so, and 
few circumstances in their histories remained untold, 
from birth, baptism, vaccination, and confirmation 
and marriage. Yes, they were ladies of husbands. 
One lady had one, and still had him. The other lady 
had two — all of them dead ; and she did n’t want any 
more — she knew what they were. She had a daugh- 
ter, however, the produce of which marriage, in the 
somewhat tumultuous flow of her eloquence, I did 
not understand. But mademoiselle was yet at the 'pen- 
sionate, and of a suitable age to enter the marriage 
relation. Marriage, unpleasant as it was, being nec- 
essary for the wearing of jewels and the enjoyment 
of society, and she was now seeking an eligible parti 
for the young lady, and desired an Englishman. 

‘‘At this point a horrible fear seized me. What if 
madame mere, seeing in me the right man, and taking 
an unfair advantage of my helplessness and good na- 
ture, should contract me out of hand to mademoiselle 

“ To avert this — I am ashamed of it — ^but my pusil- 
lanimous soul counseled a falsehood. 

“ God knows, my meaning was simply to deplore the 
exclusion from such a heaven by claiming the exist- 
ence of a wife and responsibilities; but in my trepi- 
dation, and the uncertain use of a foreign language, I 
bungled and made the statement that already I had 
several wives and one small child. 

“ Both liulies were aghast and would not listen to 


En Garde. 


35 


another word from me, although I frantically at- 
tempted a proper explanation. 

“ They were ladies and did not show their displeasure 
by pinching, or the sticking of pins. But they were 
mortal women, and I shall die in the belief that the 
merciless trampling inflicted on my toes and the con- 
tinual jagging into my ribs with the ivory handles of 
fans were not purely accidental. 

‘^At the first possible moment I extricated myself 
and — how progressive is the spirit of untruth I I who 
from my youth upward have abhorred telling a false- 
hood, found it not at all difiicult to originate the 
cause that started Colonel Clavering for his quarters. 
Harry, if you have any grace left, pray that I may 
not become a Munchausen.” 

Captain Heville was not a patient nor a sympathetic 
listener to the above harangue, delivered in a dulcet 
stream, without the ordinary pauses, and not to be 
interrupted. 

^^Stop your clatter, Ray, and let’s be oft‘ at once, or 
we shall not gain admittance; it is so late.” 

“Well, Harry, if it is the same to you, suppose we 
do not go. To this time my adventures have been 
large. I have already done enough for profit and 
more than enough for glory, and to fall back on the 
immutible principle of truth, I would vastly prefer 
striking a bee-line for my quarters, and soothing my- 
self with the consolation of a little song before woo- 
ing that gentle goddess, said to be tired nature’s sweet 
restorer.” 

“ You do not know what you are talking about. This 
appointment is not to be foregone, jt is a place where 


36 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

kings can not always gain admittance, and tlie only 
opportunity we are likely to have. I wouldn’t be a 
duffer.” 

“Enough said. I’ll go. There is nothing like lay- 
ing up a store of useful knowledge in the days of 
your youth. But what would niy father say? What 
would my mother say? What would my brothers 
say? And what would my sisters say? Such a good 
boy as I have always been, too!” 

“ Stop your nonsense. Bay, and let’s get out of this,” 
said Captain Beville impatiently, coming away from 
the alcove where they had been standing. 

“Softly, Harry, softly,” urged young Baymond, 
laying a detaining hand on his friend’s arm. “ Such 
strides are in bad form. We of the cavalry are none 
too graceful on our pins, even when we do our pret- 
tiest. And who knows, the handsome Marquise 
ir Hhbert may have the corner of her left eye on you 
at this very moment? I saw her dancing with you, 
and I thought she was a screamer. What is your 
opinion of her, my sagacious friend?” 

“ She is rather a tine animal,” replied Captain Ne- 
ville, stepping out into the vestibule where he was 
confronted face to face by madame la marquise. Her 
crimsoned cheeks showed that she had heard the re- 
mark, and her eyes gleamed with the tierce light of 
imprisoned lightning as she said in low, distinct tones : 

“ Many thanks, monsieur^ it is not given to every 
one to be even a fine animal — there are miserable 
brutes.” “ He shall pay for that if I die for it,” she 
added under her breath. 

“ He shall pay for that,” she said later when disrobed 


En Garde. 


37 


she stood before her cheval-glass and gazed contempla- 
tively at the reflection. Not in a spirit of vanity, but 
with a cold, critical sense of appraisement. “ I won- 
der if I do 11 ’t lack expression,” she murmured in a 
dissatisfied tone, and impatiently she shook her yellow 
hair, relieved from fastenings, until it fell in a shower 
around face, neck and arms, and glistening like threads 
of gold lighted up the picture to dazzling beauty. 
“ I ’ll do,” she said, and smiled contentedly. 

“ He shall pay for that,” she still repeated, when on 
the following morning she ordered that the concierge 
he instructed that if the English captain called he 
should be admitted. 

“ You rather made a mistake,” remarked Lieutenant 
liaymond, after they had got well-out on the streets. 

“ Pshaw,” growled Captain Neville, with a frown, 
feeling something like the commandant of a privateer 
who, after wantonly sending a shot across the bows of 
what seemed only a pleasure yacht discovers he has 
provoked retaliation from a full ‘‘liner” carrying 
heavy metal. 

wouldn’t get cantankerous, Harry,” recom- 
mended the sweet- voiced lieutenant. “ But if I know 
any thing about it, and I think I do, she’s a rare one ; 
and it stands you in hand to be right side up with care 
in your dealing with her.” 

“ I am remarkably well- versed upon the subject of 
ladies. When I am at home, I am always hanging 
around in-doors, and my mother and my sisters 
can lay a hand on me at any time.” Suddenly the 
young fellow became silent, the intrusive question had 
flashed across his mind. “ Ah ! shall I ever see them 


38 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left, 

again ? ” Some minutes elapsed ; then, recovering his 
light-heartedness, he asked, “ Harry, if I were to sing 
a song walking along under the flooding gas-lights, do 
you think a gendarme would take me into custody ? ” 

Captain Heville turned flercely upon him and said, 
“ Sing ‘ Beautiful Star,’ if you dare.” 

“ Do not be ungentlemanly, Harry, ‘ Beautiful Star ’ 
is not bad, but I think our own national anthem would 
swell out rather well on the evening breeze,” and in 
a subdued but beautiful tenor he began, ^ God save 
the Queen.’ 

Something very like a sigh came from Captain Se- 
ville as he looked upon the still boyish form whose 
youthful heart, so good, so pure — as jet unsullied — 
shone out from the youthful eyes setting its stamp 
all over the handsome face. Something akin to re- 
morse smote him that he was leading into crime one 
not yet acquainted with it. Introducing a novice to the 
horrid monster. Play, by which so many have been 
devoured substance and soul. ‘‘ Pshaw,” he muttered, 
“ what ’s the difierence, he ’ll get at it sometime sure ?” 

But, strive as he would against these inward up- 
braidings, they grew louder and louder until an invol- 
untary pity, as it were, for his young companion who 
had consented to this expedition only through a 
freak, over-mastered him, and stopping suddenly, and 
slightly hesitating, he said: ‘Ht is late, Pay, and I 
think we had better turn back.” 

“Who is the dufier now?” was the laughing re- 
sponse. “I’ll tell you what it is, Harry, after coming 
so far to see the elephant — and a royal specimen, too ! — 
I am going to do it,” 


An Aristocratic Game, 


39 


CHAPTER YI. 

AN ARISTOCRATIC GAME. 

“ He that will caper for a thousand marks, 

Let him lend me the money and have at him.” 

After the necessary open sesame/’ Captain Heville 
and Lieutenant Raymond found themselves in a 
small hut exquisitely handsome salon^ where an ex- 
cessively gentlemanly appearing person, faultlessly 
arrayed in evening dress, its chaste effect unmarred by 
even the permitted diamond studs in his superfine 
white shirt front, although on his small finger he wore 
a plain circlet of gold, evidently a gage d' amour ^ re- 
clined gracefully in an easy chair, reading — a manual 
of devotion. 

Lieutenant Raymond started. He missed the tra- 
ditional glare and brilliancy of surroundings. Think- 
ing there was some mistake, he gave his companion’s 
coat-tails a warning jerk. His surprise, however, 
quickly gave place to profound attention. 

The refined gentleman closed the prayer-book after 
a careful placement of the ribbon-mark, rose, and 
said : 

“You are late, messieurs^ but engaged in my devo- 
tions the waiting has not been tedious;” and, with a 
flourish of the hand, he added: “If you gentlemen 
care to smoke, there are cigars — my nerves are not 
strong, and I smoke only cigarettes ; and if you wish 


40 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

to drink, on the buffet you will find eau sucre and 
tumblers. Eau sucre is an agreeable and soothing 
beverage.” 

Lieutenant Raymond instantly quaffed deeply of 
the proffered liquid. Captain ITeville merely sug- 
gested, rather gruffly, that ^‘time is passing.” 

They were soon seated, and the cards produced and 
shuffled with languid grace, and submitted to the cut; 
the dealer, however, before he began with the distri- 
bution, observed: am a very miserable man, gen- 

tlemen. I have loved and lost. My Marie sleeps in 
le pere chaise. In one little week she would have 
been my wife. The bridal veil was ready. The wed- 
ding breakfast almost prepared — the diphtheria, gen- 
tlemen — ” 

“ Was she a very young child?” inquired Lieuten- 
ant Raymond. So absorbed was the French gentle- 
man in his melancholy recital that the inteiTuption 
was unnoticed. 

‘‘ Yes, gentlemen,” he continued, the diphtheria, 
that terrible scourge, carried her away from us almost 
before we knew she was ill. My life is now a blank — 
the world has nothing left to offer. A little game of 
cards is the only recreation I ever indulge in. Poor 
Marie ! What is life, gentlemen, without love ? ” 

Lieutenant Raymond didn’t know, he ‘‘hadn’t 
tried it.” 

Captain Neville requested, “ Let the game coyn- 
mence.’' 

“Oia’, om, messieurs f said the afflicted gentleman, 
nerving himself to the required effort. And the god- 
dess Fortune showed herself most kind to the faithful 


An Aridocratic Game. 


41 


lover of the deceased Marie. He won, and won, and 
kept on winning so largely that Lieutenant Kaymond 
was lost in admiration, and openly complimented him 
upon his luck.” 

Captain Heville, who was suspicious, had been eye- 
ing the manipulation of the cards with great atten- 
tion, but he could detect nothing wrong under the 
easy grace with which they were handled. Heither 
did the pensive dealer seem aware of the amount of 
his winnings ; he would brush away out of sight, into 
some convenient receptacle, the heaps of glittering 
coin, with the carelessness and want of respect that 
might have been looked for toward shillings. Yet, 
that there was cheating going on Captain Yeville felt 
absolutely sure ; but he was not the man to accuse 
without proof, or to cry over spilled milk, so he kept 
on, steady as a clock, until he had lost two thousand 
louisdors ; then he announced himself “ broke,” and 
ready to quit. 

If the English gentlemen, observed the civil dealer, 
were weary, it was well to cease. But the temporary 
absence of gold made not any difference. lie would 
he most happy to accommodate either, or both gentle- 
men, and make any advance of funds desired upon a 
simple note of hand. 

Lieutenant Raymond thought it about time to come 
to the front, which he did, and said very resolutely : 

I have lost five hundred, which is as much as I care 
to lose, and I am just going, and, Harry, you will just 
go with me.” 

The play-fever was not on Captain Yeville red-hot 
With him, wine and brandy were necessary adjuncts 
4 


42 


Some Little of" the Angel Still Left. 

to bring it on, and these the wily Frenchman dared 
not bring into requisition. 

‘‘ There are some weak intellects,’’ he said, in a con- 
fidential communication with himself, which a com- 
bination of stimulants and losses crazed, and nothing 
would stop them short of attempting actual murder. 
•And of course, in self-defense, I would be forced, re- 
luctantly, to the initiative. Then, an unpleasant in- 
vestigation would follow — the police are so meddle- 
some.” 

Moreover, he well knew that there men who cared 
not for drink — play, play, was all they wanted. The 
rattling of dice, or the shuffling of cards, immediately 
lifted them into an atmosphere where all things ter- 
restrial or celestial paled into insignificance. 

The eau sucre, however, was serviceable. Should 
the loser become fidgety, a little of it would tranquil- 
lize him, a good deal of it would nauseate ; either con- 
dition not favoring pugnacity. 

Captain l^eville, although he declined the sweetened 
water at first, soon became thirsty, and drank copiously, 
and was, perhaps, desirous of fresh air ; at any rate, 
he concurred very readily with Lieutenant Raymond 
about leaving, and was less sarcastic, than might have 
been expected, when the elegant host' bade them a 
kind good night, hoped they had spent a pleasant 
evening, and regretted that it would be out of his 
power to entertain them on any future occasion, for 
‘‘ I find,” referring to his tablets, “ that my engage- 
ments cover every evening for a long time to come. 
I do not play for money,” he continued, in his plain- 
tive tones, ‘‘ simply for pastime. And a quiet evening 


An Aristocratic Game. 


43 


with one or two gentleman, broken as I am in health 
and spirits, is as much as I am equal to. Again, gen- 
tleman, I wish you a very good night, and the happiest 
of dreams.’^ 

Lieutenant Kaymond, with effusiveness, requested 
the honor of shaking hands, and said : My apprecia- 
tion of your character is something beyond the usual 
expression of speech ; but I do assure you that the 
recollections of yourself and your lost Marie will cease 
but with my life. Of what account is filthy lucre, as 
some very well-meaning people call it? Mine to-day 
and yours to-morrow ; but love, love is the star of life ! ’’ 
The young fellow would probably have said much 
more, and even, perhaps, have volunteered to sing Ben 
Bolt, or some other lament of an amatory nature, but 
he was seized by Captain [N’eville and forcibly dragged 
out into the streets where, he gave vent to a peal of 
laughter so long and so loud that, a person who was 
passing looked at him in pity and said, “ Drunk.” 

‘‘ Stop your idiotic laugh,” recommended Captain 
Neville in ire, “ I fail to see any thing amusing 
in the way we were fleeced by that sallow-faced 
rascal.” 

Do n’t be suspicious and severe, Harry. Remem- 
ber that the quality of mercy is not strained, and the 
poor gentleman, by his own account, has been so 
afflicted.” The young lieutenant had now got over 
his mirth, and his light tones became serious, as he con- 
tinued : However, this is only one instance of the 
kind I have frequently heard of that, ‘ cards are cards,’ 
with a general tendency to drain the pockets of weak- 


44 Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

lings who, the more they lose the more they want 
to lose. 

My limited experience recalls a divide said to have 
taken place between two fishermen : shad for me 

and a herring for you, a herring for you and a shad for 
me,’ and so on — the counting had a ring of fairness in 
it, but the partition did not eventuate equitably. But 
I wanted to see for myself how the thing was done, 
which I have, and no great harm has come of it ; but 
I will have lost such wits as were bestowed on me by 
a beneficent Providence if I show again where that 
sort of amusement is going on. And, Harry,” looking 
straight into his companion’s eyes, ‘^you had better 
quit too — before the worse comes. Play and drink, if 
habitually indulged in, have but one logical conclusion, 
and sooner or later will undermine every good quality 
in any man — denaturalize and debase him.” 

‘‘ Stufi*! what’s the use of being a man, if one makes 
a Miss ^ancy of himself? ” 

“ Miss Hancies, on the whole, are very good institu- 
tions ; seeing that they eat and drink rationally, sleep 
ditto, and as they avoid exciting the blood and brain 
by the indulgence of vicious propensities, they are 
likely to live long and comfortably.” 

Live comfortably ! ” sneered Captain Heville. 
“ The game of life is scarcely worth the playing, even 
when you make the most of it.' A short life, and a 
merry one, for me.” 

‘‘ If it were given to me to choose, I would prefer 
for myself a long life as well as a merry one.” 

“Well, good night, Harry ; I am going to bed, and if 


An Aristocratic Game. 45 

you take the advice of a well-wisher, you will do the 
same.” 

They had arrived at the building where they both 
had quarters, and the younger officer hastily clattered 
up an open stairway, his sword banging against every 
step, making a martial racket. 


46 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 


CHAPTER YIL 

MEDITATIONS. 

“ 1 had a dream which was not all a dream.” 

For a couple of minutes Captain Heville stood ir- 
resolute, making up his mind whether to turn in, or 
to turn out and get a drink of brandy, and hunt up a 
partner for seven-up — a plain, old-fashioned game, not 
likely to become obsolete. 

Its general fitness and adaptability for gambling 
purposes had brought it over from the back- woods of 
America, across the ocean to find a trans- Atlantic wel- 
come. 

While he hesitated, a banging, taking place above 
his head, informed him that Lieutenant Raymond was 
throwing open his windows — that young gentleman 
believed in fresh air — and softly sinffinff, “ Come, Oh, 
Come With Me.” 

‘‘I’ll go to bed,” he decided, yet he did not go in 
immediately, but stood watching through the open 
Avindow whence a light now shone, and young Ray- 
mond could be seen laying aside his sword. He then 
removed his coat and vest, carefully hanging them up. 
At this stage Captain Neville began to feel in his 
pockets for some small article to toss up and in, when 
he suddenly stopped, with an exclamation : “ Mein 
Grott in Himmel, I do believe the confounded fool is 
going to say his prayers.” 


Meditations. 


47 


It was even so ; the light song died away from his 
lips, as the young fellow sat down, and reverently 
shading his eyes, began reading from a small volume. 

Sometimes, the smallest incident will touch some 
inner chord • and awaken a strain hitherto mute. 
Captain IN’eville experienced almost a pang of un- 
wonted seriousness. ‘‘ Poor Ray, good Ray,” he mused, 

always so cheery and bright ; it’s a pity to make food 
for powder of that sort — fellows like me, no good for 
one’s self, and no use to any body, are the right kind 
of stuff.” 

A few moments later found Captain R’eville in his 
room getting ready for his pillow. Kicking his de- 
fenseless boots, upsetting chairs, and otherwise mak- 
ing an unearthly din, disturbing the slumbers of an 
officer in an adjoining room, who made a large num- 
ber of profane and vicious remarks coupled with the 
offender’s name. 

Captain Keville abhorred going to bed, “ making a 
mummy of oneself,” as he called it, and to delay, as 
well as to continue his cogitations, he seated himself 
on a table — every chair in the room, not sprawling 
on the floor, contained separated portions of his 
wardrobe; a straining and creaking of timbers warned 
him to remove if he did not wish to become involved 
in the common ruin. ‘‘What do people mean by put- 
ting crazy, ill-made furniture in a room,” he said, 

with temper. “ I have a mind to throw the d n 

thing out of a window. He shifted his location to 
the bedside, and continued his reverie. An army of 
thoughts came crowding around him. Again he 
tliought of Lieutenant Raymond with his vade meciun; 


48 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

and again that inner chord voiced its plaintive strains. 
‘‘Ah! me,” he sighed, “it is better not to forget those 
lessons we all learned in our youth ; and if there is so 
much humbuggery in the world, and so much coun- 
terfeit coin, the true ring of the pure gold can never 
be mistaken. And there is Colonel Clavering, another 
of the sort to be depended on. He is a staunch old 
buck 1 he never smelt blood in his life, yet he is going 
to fight like a lion.” His restless thoughts then went 
over the channel to the fine old English gentleman 
and the sweet young English lady. To the first he 
was a son, to the other a brother. “What a lot of 
trouble,” said he, “I have made for them both; and 
if the first ball from the Russian cannon should take 
oft* my head, it would be a kind thing for them. I 
am such a scamp, and will never be any better — an 
unmitigated scamp ! or I never would have taken Ray 
to that gambling-house. But he is safe from me in 
the future. I swear I won’t corrupt him; I’ll drop 
his acquaintance first.” 

Next he thought of the marble-slab under which his 
mother lay — the marble was old now and covered 
with ivy. “Had she lived, })erhaps I might have pur- 
sued a dift'erent life — been a better man.” Then, as 
if to torment him, a pair of bright blue eyes seemed 
to flash before him, and a gleam of yellow hair seemed 
floating in the air, from whence the haughty red lips 
seemed to mock him. Hang the woman’s beaut}^! 
has she cast over me her spell? What nonsense! If 
I were a good man, which I am not; if my sins, by 
some marvel, were transformed into virtues, even 


Meditations. 


49 


then it would not be more vain to look for weakness 
in a lioness than to expect tenderness from that 
woman. But, if one could, would it not he a splendid 
victory to cause those proud eyes to droop, and to feel 
the power to make those firm lips tremble? Yet, 
after all, I dare say, a lioness in love is not altogether 
fierce.” 

Captain Neville’s reflective mood here terminated, 
and, with a grunt of disapprobation, he dropped his 
head to his pillow, making the final protest: ‘‘It’s 
beastly to sleep away so much of one’s life.” 

La Marquise d' Hebert, to improve her accent of the 
English tongue, which she had used hut little, had 
obtained, through the agency of Monsieur le Ministre 
de Finance, who had many friends in England, a com- 
panion from the island. Miss Nancy Brown, a well- 
bred gentlewoman. 

Monsieur Felix Duroc, also constituted one of the 
household of madame la marquise. His position was 
not on the footing of one in service. He would have 
challenged to mortal combat a person so hinting. 

His father was a gentleman of ancient blood, and lived 
in his own chdteau, on his own estate — but the estate 
was not in a flourishing condition — and of sons and 
daughters there were many. But what of that? The 
amity and concord of a French family not only de- 
fies poverty, hut even mocks it. “The vineyard fur- 
nishes grapes, the wheat-fields bread, and with my 
children all around me, what more can I desire?” in- 
quired le fere. 

At a time when the establishment of madame la mar- 


5 


50 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

guise required a competent authority for its manage- 
ment, monsieur le ministre was steadfast in the need, 
and his skillful negotiations, conducted with the tact 
and diplomacy he would have used with crowned 
heads, secured the valuable assistance of Monsieur Fe- 
lix Duroc^ between whom and Miss Brown, in the 
progress of time, existed a reciprocal attachment, al- 
though how it came about was a mystery, unless 
accounted for by the old paradox of extremes meet- 
ing — each being an ultra-radical type of their widely 
diftering nationalities. Besides Miss Brown was of 
the Church of England to such an extent she would 
have laid down her life for her faith ; while Monsieur 
Felix was a Roman Catholic, and ready to march to 
the stake any day, night, or minute in defense of his 
religion. 

There were other points of difference between 
them. Indeed, there were few points under the sun 
in which they agreed. Consequently, the miffs and 
tiffs incidental to lovers pursued them with relentless 
severity. 

There was a promise of marriage between them; 
but fully one-half of the time they were not on speak- 
ing terms. It did not occur to either of them, how- 
ever, that it would be better to dissolve the engage- 
ment in view of the cat and dog life imminent when 
they were indissolubly tied together. But, with a 
blind reliance — showing the beauty and power of a 
perfect faith — they looked forward to the marriage 
vows for a healing of all diftereiices, a reconciling of 


Meditations. 


51 


all disagreements. The consolidation of flesh, sup- 
posed to take place under the nuptial benediction, 
would create a oneness — and ‘‘it would not he possi- 
ble to quarrel with oneself.” 


52 


Some Little of the Any el Still Left. 


CHAPTER YIII. 

HOSTILITIES DEFERRED. 

“ It is a quarrel most unnatural, 

, To be revenged on him that loves thee.’^ 

Madame la marquise and Miss Brown sat together 
in a pretty boudoir. They had breakfasted, and were 
now employed in the manufacture of lint. 

Having taken kindly to each other from the first, 
they were now good friends. 

‘‘ !N’annette, after we get through with this lint, sup- 
pose we get flannel, and make a box of garments to 
send with the hospital stores. They will come in so 
a propos after a battle. The poor, dear soldiers ! Only 
think, how many of them will get wounded or killed,” 
she sighed. La marquise loved soldiers — they added 
a zest to her life, and few days passed that she did not 
drive out in her carriage to witness them at their evo- 
luions. Their gay appearance, the precision and rapid- 
ity of their movements, enchanted her. And previous 
to the solemn declaration of war she had hoped that 
Providence would intervene to avert hostilities, and 
save from slaughter her uniformed pets. 

The French government is an example to the world 
for the care it extends to the comfort in the most 
minute detail, as well as to the efficiency of its army. 
There had been no appeal for private aid, but it was a 
labor of love with madame la marquise to manufacture 


53 


Hostilities Deferred. 

lint. Slie had not thought of any thing else until her 
thought of the flannel. 

Much pleased with the new idea, she hitched her 
chair near to Miss Brown, and talked long and confi- 
dentially on the nature of the garments they were 
going to make. 

Miss Brown was a very remarkable young woman, 
inasmuch as she was not above asking for the infor- 
mation she did not possess. Therefore, she suggested 
that they should consult le ministre. She had a hazy 
idea that the night-gowns and petticoats, which la 
marquise thought would he of such superlative com- 
fort to the invalid soldiers when compelled to lie in 
bed — keeping their poor dear legs so warm ” — might 
be subject to improvement^ 

At this moment Captain Neville was announced. 
And if la marquise had appeared to him beautiful 
when seen at the ball, she was irresistible now, as she 
sat leaning over so as to bring her face on a level with 
Miss Brown’s, gesticulating and talking with great 
animation ; there was evidence of tenderness plenty 
enough, now. She was thinking of the horrors to 
which the French military would soon be exposed. 

The emotions of Captain Neville were all of the 
tornado description. And those who have witnessed 
the instantaneous overthrow of a sturdy oak by shock 
of air, will not be surprised at the velocity with which 
he straightway fell into love — inch thick, knee- deep, 
neck and crop — as thoroughly, to all intents and pur- 
poses, as if he had gone about it in the most delicate, 
gingerly nianner imaginable — and mentally he regis- 
tered an oath to win her. 


54 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left, 

The appearance of Captain Neville would -have 
been unwelcome to la ma.rquise in the highest degree, 
oidy she remembered right well that he was owing 
her something, and she was quite settled in her mind 
that it should he paid with usurious interest. There- 
fore, although she instantly resumed the air of haughty 
indifference habitual to her, she did not allow her dis- 
like to come to the surface, and said, ‘‘Bon jour le 
Capitainef civilly, and presented her friend. Miss 
Brown. 

This introduction was noticed so scantily that both 
ladies were indignant. 

The companion gathered up her lint and retreated 
to the uttermost end of the apartment, as Captain de- 
signed she should. 

There is no gentleman who does not feel his fasci- 
nations cramped when subjected to the scrutinizing 
eyes of an unfriendly duenna, such as he instinctively 
recognized Miss Brown to be. 

Not for a moment did he make the mistake of under- 
estimating the difficulties that lay before him. He 
knew himself to be in a position requiring more than 
ordinary address. In military parlance the enemies 
grounds were to reconnoiter — strength of defense to be 
considered; also, the proper conduct of the siege. 
The besieged was skillfully intrenched and well- 
provisioned; and the party wishing to compass the 
capitulation well knew that good, honest effort, pa- 
tience and finesse would all be necessary. But he 
would he victorious in the end, he assured himself. 

The first step would be to write for the sustaining 
presence of his father and sister. There was a grand 


55 


Hostilities Deferred. 

air of ancient noblesse about them which could not fail 
to impress la marquise favorably — he admired and was 
proud of them himself. 

These thoughts passed through Captain ITeville’s 
mind with the swiftness of lightning, only occupying 
the time in which he was getting seated. Observing 
her occupation, he made the remark, not remarkable 
for brilliancy of conception, but meant to be encour- 
aging : 

“ I see you are at work for the soldiers.’’ 

Madame- her immediate attention to the capt- 
ure of some few shreds of her lint, showing symptoms 
of an erratic disposition, then she replied : 

“ For my soldiers, yes — the French.” 

May I ask,” he said, “ why you claim for your per- 
sonal soldiers the French ? ” 

Because, I am French,” she answered, and have 
scarcely been out of Paris in my life.” 

“And, yet, you are of English parents,” said he. 

“ Who told you that?” she asked. “Ah ! I under- 
stand,” she continued, flushing with anger, “ You have 
been making inquiries, and are well up in the matters 
pertaining to myself and the Marquis dMebert. Such 
an interest is very worthy of you — and I appreciate 
it. But the gaucherie of coming with it to me ! ” she 
said, looking at him with inefiable disdain. 

Captain FTeville had been making inquiries ; but he 
did not expect to be charged with it in this open, 
above-board fashion ; and with the uncomfortable feel- 
ing of having walked into a trap of his own making, 
he was silent, and at loss for a reply — with him an 
unusual circumstance. 


56 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left, 


With her bright eyes still fixed upon him, la mar- 
quise said, sternly : 

“ When making yourself an courant with my pri- 
vate history, did it occur to you that the. irresponsible 
child was an object of pity, and that all, not wholly 
bad, would on that subject maintain a respectable si- 
lence, and not make her wrongs the theme for coarse 
and ungenerous comments ? I was not devoid of every 
good feeling, and if, after I was forced to become his 
wife, the Marquis d’Hebert had treated me with con- 
sideration and kindness I might have learned to love 
him — not, perhaps, as girls in school imagine one may 
feel when under the influence of the beau passion.” 
Her cheeks glowed and her eyes sparkled in the ex- 
citement into which she had suffered herself to fall ; 
but checking herself with a splendid effort of self- 
control, she added, in slow, distinctly contemptuous 
tones, “ I do not know why I am telling you this — or, 
indeed, why you are here in my house after your inso- 
lence of last evening.” 

By this time. Captain Heville had pulled himself 
together, so to speak, and had an answer ready: 

‘‘Pardon me, madame^ if I say you are too hasty in 
your conclusions. It was interest, not impertinent 
curiosity, that dictated the few inquiries I made in re- 
gard to yourself, and all that I learned was to your 
advantage ; and my rudeness, or ‘ insolence,’ I am’ here 
to apologize for, without reserve — I came for the pur- 
pose. And now, after having confessed- judgment, 
and received punishment, perhaps, it may please you, 
as is the fashion among ladies, to listen to the counsel 
for the defense.. You will, I think, admit that I did 


Hostilities Deferred. 57 

not force my unworthy acquaintance upon you, and 
who should know so' well as you do that a beautiful 
woman is always a legitimate object of adoration? 
And, in all humility, I was content to simply worship at 
a distance. But such did not suit you. At your com- 
mand, I was brought into your presence — peacefully — 
as under the protection of a flag of truce. And, must 
I add, the sacred character of which you violated, and 
opened upon me a raking fire, at close range, from 
masked batteries? I do not suppose it will help my 
cause to say that ‘men ay’nt mice,’ and we don’t like 
unnecessary cruelty. I should rather say: ‘IN'ay, la- 
dies, fear not, by all the laws of war you are privi- 
leged ;’ only, it appears to me,” said he, looking at her 
earnestly, “you are among the glorious few who are 
quite above ‘hitting a man when he is down,’ or tak- 
ing any other low advantage of his weakness’. I can 
imagine you, intrepidly, leaving the protection of 
earth- works to meet any adversary in open field.” 

“You are right,” answered la marquise; “I never 
ask immunity because I am a woman — I can protect 
myself. I only want a ‘ fair field and no favor.’ ” 

This remark sent a thrill through Captain Neville, 
and his tone was much more assured, as he answered: 
“ I see from your expression that the turf is fortunate 
enough to share your regard with French soldiers. 
You have, then, a 'penchant for the thoroughbred 
courser — the high-mettled race-horse?” 

This was an inspiration ! 

Madame de Stael said the more she saw of men the 
better she loved dogs. This was a rude speech, and 
can only be excused on the ground that it was made 


58 Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

in times of great insincerity, when the prevailing use 
of language was to disguise oner's thoughts — it had the 
merit of being strictly true. 

Madame la marquise did not so openly proclaim her 
sentiments, but there is no denying that under the 
same governing influence she had taken to French 
soldiers concretely, and to horses abstractly. She 
loved all horses. Race-horses she wildly adored — and 
if in her secret heart would sometimes rise the wish 
that she were a small boy to ride one, it was quickly 
dismissed. But, laying violent hands on ‘‘‘cher le min- 
istref she would compel him to escort her to the 
Grand Prix de Paris, and had in possession, as cher- 
ished relics, several small articles won on the event. 

A woman’s heart is inscrutable. It may remain 
long and obstinately closed to the most patient and 
pathetic- appeals, and fly wide open at a random and 
most insignifleant touch. The tones and looks of 
la marquise perceptibly softened as she replied : ‘‘ Oh, 
yes, I do love horses.” 

Captain Heville was charmed, and communicated 
that he had a horse just arrived from England, and 
engaged in the great City of Paris Handicap. ‘‘ Per- 
haps, madame, you do not know what a handi- 
cap is?” 

‘‘ Oh, yes, I do,” she replied, and related, volubly, 
that she had heard Count Balzordie complain bitterly 
of the handicappers in this very race. Ilis mare, 
Frederica, had to carry more weight, and she only in 
her three-year-old form, than some of the aged horses. 
And she expected nothing else but that it was Cap- 
tain Neville’s horse he spoke of when he said that 


Hostilities Deferred. 59 

some English horse had also been outrageously 
weighted. 

Captain Neville admitted that his horse had not been 
favored by the handicappers, but he was in tine condi- 
dition, and his trainer did not apprehend the penalty 
would be a matter of consequence. He thought his 
horse to be the very finest specimen of a thoroughbred 
he had ever seen, and, if madame and Miss Brown, 
recollecting that lady’s existence, cared to see him, he 
would be happy to escort the ladies to the present res- 
idence of the horse and his attaches^ distant only 
a pleasant drive. ■» 

Miss Brown did not look up from the linen she was 
converting into lint. But madame la marquise was 
delighted, and said she had never seen the housekeep- 
ing of a race horse, and would be pleased to go the 
next day at noon. 

Captain Neville had never dreamed of such brilliant 
success, and truth to say, was not prepared for it. 
His trainer was somewhat peculiar, and not an easy 
person to get on with, even when the utmost care was 
taken to rub him the right way. On the subject of 
visitors to his stables he was rabid. ‘‘ I am not agoin’ 
to ’ave nobody cornin’ pryin’ aroun’ my stables, 
pesterin’ the ’orse, an’ keepin’ the ’ands from their 
iDusiness; I jess aint,” he often said, and his em- 
ployer well knew that if all the potentates of earth 
were to come in a body and request a sight of the 
aristocratic quadruped under his care, they would be 
told to Leave, an’ leave, in a ’urry.” Therefore, it 
was indispensable that he should first see the Cerberus, 
and wring a consent for the visit of la marquise. 


60 Some Little of the Ayigel Still Left. 

This, after a short mental communing, he honestly 
told her, but did not doubt that he would he able to 
arrange it so as to alFord herself and Miss Brown an 
inspection of the horse. 

The difficulties in the way naturally increased the 
desire of la marquise. Had it not been for the sleep- 
less dragon guarding the premises, probably, the 
golden apples in the garden of Ilesperides would not 
have been so much thought of. And, go she would, 
without fail, she promised, whenever leave for the 
visit could be obtained, and there would be a seat in 
her carriage for monsieur le capitawe. 

‘‘And now, monsieur,^ said she, rising: “I am sure 
you have engagements from which I will not for the 
world detain you.” 

Monsieur had no engagements. His regimental du- 
ties were completely ignored, and he would have been 
quite content to remain some time longer in madame^s 
boudoir ; but, understanding that he had received his 
dismissal, he rose, made his adieux, and departed. 

“What a disagreeable person,” said Miss Brown, 
promptly. 

“ Yes,” acquiesced la marquise. 

“I wonder at the appointment you made with him,” 
said matter-of-fact Miss Brown. 

“ The horse, dear. You forget the horse which cer- 
tertainly must be the one that Count Balzordie saw 
when he was across the Channel, and which, he said, 
was perfectly superb — superb.” 

It is astonishing what inconsistencies are often allied 
to strong natures. Milo, who could fell a bullock and 
perform other amazing feats of strength, would turn 


Hostilities Deferred. 


61 


pale and tremble at the frown of a certain woman 
whose character did not deserve the least respect. 
And Henry of Havarre, whose plume ever led where 
the battle raged highest, would cowardly take to his 
heels and flee before the well-merited reproaches of 
the wife of his bosom. And la marquise^ whose spirit 
was indomitable and equal to any “ deed of derring- 
do,” would occasionally make the most childish re- 
marks. Hannette,” said she, “what a charming 
world it would be if only chere madame le ministre, 
you and I, French soldiers and horses were in it!” 

Miss Brown, was not moved to an expression of her 
sentiments. To her the creation would have seemed 
incomplete without Monsieur Felix Duroc. But she 
could do without horses. Being English, she could 
walk her ten miles at a stretch without fatigue ; and 
felt a safety and pleasure on her own pedal extremi- 
ties she was far from feeling in the vicinity of horse- 
flesh. 


62 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 


CHAPTEK IX. 

MR. WINSD all’s COMPLIMENTS. 

“And coming events cast their shadows before.” 

Don Juan, tlie English horse referred to in the pre- 
ceding chapter, had Mr. Mathew Winsdall for his 
trainer, friend, and admirer. 

Mr. Jacob Smiley was his groom, and friend also, 
hut not to the same limitless, out-of- all-reason extent. 

A lad, Edward, or Ed’ard, as called by Mr. Wins- 
dall — the groom called him Xeddy — was his jockey. 
This boy had known but two phases of life ; the first 
in an orphan asylum, or work’us, in patois, and his 
present one in the service of Mister Winsdle,” as he 
abridged the name. But compensation was made by 
the groom, who elongated the patronymic to “Mister 
Winsdawll.” 

To call Mr. Winsdall a rigid disciplinarian would 
fall far short of the actual despotism of his reign. 
By a well-educated habit Mr. Smiley received his 
oaths, kicks, and abusive epithets with stoicism, com- 
forting himself with the refiection that, “ It was not 
so had but it mought he wus.” 

Xeddy was a delicate child, hardly fourteen years 
of age — appearing less — and his daily life was a labori- 
ous and not always successful eftbrt “ to keep Mister 
Winsdle’s ’ands hoff.” 

Their arrival in the environs of Paris was not inau- 


63 


3Ir. WinsdaWs Complinietits. 

gurated without trouble, and j^eddy teartiilly whis- 
pered to Mr. Smiley that he was “ afeared they warn’t 
agoiii’ to hive no luck.” 

In order to meet the rather exacting views of his 
trainer, Captain ileville had provided accommodations 
contiguous to, hut apart from, the main collection of 
stables occupied by the horses in active preparation 
for the approaching races ; and when their train ar- 
rived, he was at the station to meet them and person-, 
ally to see that the horse, men, and hoy were safely 
lodged. 

It was authoritatively commanded by Mr. Winsdall 
that not a thing of the “ freight ” should be touched 
until Don was first put away. “Put a sheet on that 
there ’orse,” he next ordered. Mr. Smiley immedi- 
ately invested Don Juan with a sheet, and then in- 
quired if he should “ put a ’ood onto hm ? ” 

“]^o,” was the short answer. “What do you want 
to put a ’ood onto ’im for ? ” 

“ I thought — mebby — per’aps — that — you — was — 
athinkin’ — ’e — niought — cotch — a — cold,” replied 
Mr. Smiley, with the deliberate consideration which 
always attended his words — a trick of nature that Mr. 
Winsdall had vainly endeavored to correct. 

“Jacob, I jess never seen a more first-class ejut. 
What do you think I want to travel that ’orse naked 
for, to ’ave Mister an’ Mrs. Bonapart an’ all the rest 
runnin’ bout to take in ’is p’ints. Help Ed’ard onto 
’is ’orse. 

The “ travel ” to the stable was effected without ac- 
cident, and the horse turned loose into his roomy box 
stall. Captain Neville viewed him with intense admi- 


64 


Some Little of the Angel Still Lift. 

ration, and went away after advising the trainer to 
‘‘ keep both eyes wide open.” 

Mr. Winsdall tarried, as he deemed a sufficient 
length of time, watching the horse until he should 
feel reconciled and at home. Then, with Jacob, he 
returned for their effects ; and while they were gone 
ITeddy was ordered to stand outside the closed door 
of Don Juan’s box, and to remain there if the heavens 
fell. And on no account to have anything to do with 
the lads from the other stables. Should they come 
near, he was to tell them, without being mealy- 
mouthed about it,” to leave. 

Alas ! for poor ITeddy. Scarcely were the trainer 
and groom out of sight before ten or a dozen lads of 
like calling — it being a time of leisure with them — 
approached, inviting him to play with them, and ask- 
ing many questions about his horse. To answer one 
of these questions would have been as much as 
Neddy’s life was worth. Therefore, he politely stated 
the nature of his instructions, and hoped they would 
not think it hard because he could n’t — no way in the 
world. And if they would only go back to their own 
stables, and leave him alone, he would “ take it real 
kind.” 

At this civilly dictated speech the boys began to 
laugh and howl derisively. 

‘‘ Lord, what a guy !” shrieked one. 

‘MIe’s one ol your good boys!” yelled another. 

“He ain’t no boy — he’s a gurll” screamed a third. 

Neddy began to weep at this last bitter insult, pro- 
testing they were mistaken. 

The amusement of his persecutors was now ex- 


Mr. WinsdaWs Compliments. 65 

treine and found expression in a series of whoops re- 
sembling, if not identical with, those of wild Co- 
manches on the war-path and sufficiently tormenting 
to the poor little victim. But these lively lads wanted 
variety, to their sport and soon came back to English 
vocabulary, which is, after all, unsurpassed for the fe- 
licity of its terms of aggravation; and l^eddy almost 
felt the misery of being flayed -alive when again the 
shouts went up, following in quick succession : 

She’s turned on her water-works ! boho, boho-ho.” 

“ Lost babby ! l)ropt out of somebody’s cart-tail ! 
ring the bell !” 

“ Run, some of you boys, and scare up a mammy 
for her.” 

“Oh, shucks! Can’t nobody fetch her something to 
eat? To sorter quiet her.” 

This was suggestive. Foraging parties were thrown 
out, and so active were their movements, that i^eddy 
was soon writhing under a merciless shower of bread- 
crusts, half-eaten potatoes, beef-bones, egg-shells ete., 
falling all around him in a storm. 

This was the situation revealed when Mr. Winsdall 
appeared in the distance, Jacob walking beside him 
heavily ladened with piles of blankets, bundles of rub- 
bing-cloths, out of which handles of scraping-knives 
incontinently protruded. A circumstance Mr. Wins- 
dall was commenting upon with unsparing severity 
when a view of the evil-doing lads caused him to' 
cease speaking in the fullness of his rage. He was 
described by Mr. Smiley as being “ wery dangus when 
’e stopped growlin’.” 

6 


66 Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

The boys made a considerably better than the aver- 
age run, each for the shelter of his own stable. 

But they were not pursued; neither did Mr. Wins- 
dall allude to them while directing the arrangement 
of articles and furniture, which arrived on wheels, for 
the use of themselves and the horse, principally the 
horse. 

ITeddy was given some knives, forks, and tin-plates 
to scrub. Mr. Winsdall was prone to thank heaven 
that he was not above his business and too good to eat 
out of a tin-plate. But the tin-plate had always to be 
polished to the highest point of finish, giving i^eddy 
ample employment ^‘atween ’orse times.’’ 

The time had now arrived when, without haste or 
worry, sacrificial ofterings were to be laid on the altar 
of justice. 

“Jacob,” said Mr. Winsdall, iii pompous tones, be- 
fitting the solemnity of the occasion. 

“ Sur,” answered Jacob. 

“Jacob, do you go right over to yonder line of sta- 
bles, an’ wisit them from one eend to tother, an’ 
make my wery particular compliments to the bosses, 
an’ you can jess say that I am wery particular hanx- 
ious to make the hacquaintance of their bloomin’ 
young gentlemen who done me the particular honor 
to call upon me in my habsence. An’ see ’ere, Jacob, 
if they seem like to shirk, or talk hoft*, do 3-011 jess 
say that, takin’ it for granted that they want to see 
me their own selves, I will make a call on them, indi- 
widually.” 

Mr. Smdey performed his mission. 

The “bosses” met in hasty deliberation. Some of 


3Ir. WinsdalVs Compliments. 67 

them knew Mr. Winsdall personally. They all knew 
him by reputation, and were satisfied that he ‘‘meant 
business.’’ “The boys will have to go,” was the 
unanimous verdict. Those were not the days when 
the resignation of a jockey was only attended by the 
slight formality of “sending in his jacket.” If un- 
written, the rule was clear that to his stable the 
jockey belonged body and bones. . 

And dolorous looking and feeling boys they were 
when they filed before the ofiended magnate whose 
territorial privileges they had- invaded. And they 
were not encouraged by his unusual affability and be- 
nignity of speech : 

“Walk in, my lads. Nice harternoon.” 

The boys assayed an apology of the most humble 
description, but were interrupted by Mr. Winsdall, 
who said, with a grin which was far from arousing 
jocular sentiments in the bosoms of those whom he 
addressed: “Don’t speak of it, I beg. Don’t put 
yourselves to any onnecessary trouble, my sweet dears, 
but I’m afeared that I will.’ave to ask you to jess 
get in there,” motioning to a box-stall fitted up with 
sleeping accommodations for Jacob and Heddy. He 
slept with the horse, and expressed himself that “ any 
bed that was good enough for Don is good enough 
for me, it jess is.’ 

Jacob being called in to assist in some way, a scene 
of flagellation commenced. The squeals of the boys 
gave good evidence that it was not done negligently. 

N’eddy was almost beside himself as he sat scrub- 
bing the pans; there was a chink in the door, and a 
horrible fascination drew him to it. His face con- 


68 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

torted and his body writhed in unison with the suf- 
ferers ; nor did he feel easy in his mind on his own 
account. lie was guiltless of participation in the 
recent outrages; he thought Mr. Winsdall would ad- 
mit that. “But, ’e ’as ’is ’an’ in, an’ there’s no tellin’ 
where ’e’ll stop,” the boy murmured, as he ran, trem- 
bling, back to the tins. 

And it was well for him that he did so, for, almost 
immediately, Mr. Winsdall appeared, smiling and 
happy, followed by the youthful band — each coun- 
tenance wearing traces of anguish — and, with the 
courtesy that seemed to them demoniac, he expressed 
the gratification which their company had afforded 
him, and “’oped they would not find it ill-conwenient 
to hexercise their ’orses. An’ see ’ere,” he added, 
“jess lay down your pocket-hankerchers and ’gether 
hup that fodder you was so kind as to fetch over, an’ 
take it back. I am obleeged to you, but we ’ave no 
use for it; we don’t feed the ’orse, nor likewise our- 
selves, on no sech.” And, being in a lively mood, 
he rattled off' a string of facetious remarks to amuse 
the boys while the debris was gathered up. And, as 
they departed under the gloom of deep dejection, each 
lad bearing a bundle, he counseled them to “be 
keerful, an’ not drop any, for it was waluable.” 

For the first time in the annals of their careers, as 
stable-boys, these lads had no heart for the boisterous 
j)lay in which it was their habits to indulge, in season 
as well as out of season, but performed their equinal 
functions with quickness, neatness, and dispatch, gain- 
ing for themselves enconiums from each respective 
trainer, followed by the remark : “ It would be well to 


Mr. ^VlnsdalVs Compliments. 69 

send them over every day to be interviewed by Mr. 
Winsdall.” 

The lads regarded this a gratuitous addition to their 
already lacerated feelings, and with bitterness of spirit, 
and no appetite for supper, they crept into their beds. 
The most revengeful one of these boys in the dead 
hours of the night made a solemn compact with the 
Almighty Lord of heaven and earth — so far as in him 
lay the power — that if the good Lord would only 
cause old Mat Wiiisdall’s horse to break down, he 
‘‘ would get religion.” 


TO 


Some Little of the Angel Still Lift. 


CHAPTER X. 

A TRAINING STABLE. 

‘ Honor and fame from no condition rise, 

Act well your part; there all the honor lies.” 

The sun was high up shining bright and warm all 
over la belle Paris ^ and the pleasant hum of busy life 
merrily astir as Captain Neville wended his way to the 
domicile of Hon Juan to get the necessary permit al- 
lowing the visit of la marquise. 

He found old ^lat, as he was generally called, al- 
though not beyond middle age, seated upon the one 
chair belonging to the establishment directly in front 
of the open box-stall of Hon Juan. This liorse had 
finished his oats, and was now with great industry 
munching hay. 

Jacob and Neddy were partaking of their morning 
meal, al fresco^ Neddy’s breakfast being bread and 
molasses. , Mr. Smiley’s bill of fare was more elab- 
orate, consisting of a hunch of cold beef that com- 
pared favorably with his head in point of size, a large 
slice of bread, in the cutting of which no care had 
been taken to preserve beauty of outline, and a quart 
of ale. His hearty enjoyment of it all attracted Cap- 
tain Neville’s attention, and he stopped to say, ‘‘ How 
are you, Jacob? Yon are faithful, 1 see, to home- 
brewed, and are not trying to turn your stomach 
wrong side out with sour French wine.” 


71 


A Training Stable. 

Yes, Mister ’Arry, to the likes of we, hale is wittles 
an’ drink, an’ we fetched a lot of it along with us, as 
it were told to we that you carn’t get no hale in this 
bloody county. They carn’t make it. In the first 
place, they ’aven’t the ’ops, an’ if they ’ad the ’ops, they 
’aven’t the brewers. Yow, if I was a gentleman, an’ 
could drink that champion wine — but I do n’t know 
if I’de like it,” said he, meditatively. 

‘‘Very well, Jacob, you shall have a try any way. 
After the horse wins the handicap, I ’ll send you a bas- 
ket of it to drink to his health. Morning, Winsdall. 
IIow is the horse doing? 

“ Doin’ as well as a ’orse can do, an’ lookin’ as fine 
as a fiddle can look. But, come in Mister ’Any. It 
do n’t cost you an’ me nothin’ to go in where he is — 
Mr. Winsdall said this with an air denoting that he 
fully valued the inestimable privilege. After they had 
got within the box-stall Don Juan’s morning perform- 
ance was communicated : “ I put a blanket an’ ’ood on 
’im — I like to use some clothes, if Jack Minor did train 
Kentucky naked — an’ sent ’im around a couple of 
times jjretty lively, then I jess took a nice little scrape 
houten ’im, took ’is clothes hoff, put Ed’ard hup, an’ 
told ’im to go three times around. The first mile a 
leetle hunder ’arf-speed, then to hincrease the speed 
graderly an’ come ’ome to me a-bilin’.” 

“Has he quite got his action?” inquired Captain 
Keville. 

“ Well, now, ’e jess ’as.” The recollections of Don 
Juan’s long, easy, graceful stride — the perfect working 
of a faultless piece of mechanism — so wrought upon 
Mr. Winsdall’s imagination as to cause him to recite 


72 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

poetry, by no means a common occurrence, in aid of 
his description : 

“ ‘ Did you ever see the wild goose sailin’ on the ocean ? 

Oh! the wild goose motion, is a mighty pretty motion.’ ” 

Don Juan, seeming to appreciate the compliment, 
approached, and in a spasm of ardent attachment bur- 
rowed his nose inside old Mat’s waistcoat. 

“ Have you seen Frederica, Winsdall ? ” asked Cap- 
tain I7eville. 

‘‘Yes, I ’as. I seen ’er at ’er work. She’s a race- 
horse of the first-water. An’ Don hout the way, she ’d 
win the ’andicap in a gallop.” 

“How about it, Winsdall, I heard that some horse 
had run a trial — two miles — low down in the thirties, 
in his shoes ! ” 

“ I seen that ’orse. Mister ’Arry,” replied old Mat, 
“ an’ ’e jess run with ’is foot too close to the ground 
for shoes. ’E was plated — ’e ’ad ’is pumps on, in dan- 
cin’ fix.” 

“ Why, what was it done for ? ” 

‘‘ To send ’im hup in the pools. Them that was so 
sugary on the Pruusian mare afore Don got ’ere is get- 
tin’ ill, an’ wantin’ to ’edge, likely. But I was n’t 
born yesterday, an’ they earn ’t take me in.” 

Notwithstanding the prosperous appearances. Cap- 
tain Neville was conscious of a sudden sinking of the 
heart, not unknown to the wisest and best in the con- 
templation of a momentous and undecided issue, and 
his tones indicated deep anxiety as he said : “ Wins- 
dall, would n’t it be the devil to pay, if, after all, Fred- 
erica should beat the horse? ” 


73 


A Training Stable. 

Old Mat looked at him in hurt surprise, and replied, 
earnestly: “Mister ’Arry, that’s onpossible. Out- 
side the question. This ’ere ’orse — Don Juan had got 
one of Mr. Winsdall’s hands into his mouth, and was 
champing, making believe to chew it — is onbeatable 
many affectionate glances are interchanged between 
horse and trainer ; “ there ’s nothin’ that wears iron 
can touch ’im. An’ ’e aint none of your Sunday 
’orses ; you can always count on ’im. ’E ’s never sick 
nor sorry ; ’e ’s heverlastingly hup on ’is foot, ’an never 
hoff ’is feed.” 

Mr. Winsdall was a hard-featured man ; no one 
could have the hardihood to deny so palpable a fact; 
but as he stood caressing Don Juan, his face wreathed 
with smiles, he illustrated how ugly a man can be and 
yet live. Captain Neville regarded the two with 
great complacency. The doubt of a moment sent 
adrift, and the equilibrium of happy assurance being 
restored, brought on a feeling of magnanimous con- 
siderateness. 

“ Winsdall, after the races, and you go home, you 
must arrange for Edward to go to school. I do n’t 
want him brought up in ignorance.” 

“ Mister ’Arry,” was the reply, in an injured tone, 
“ give a person credit for some sort of right feelin’. 
I am not agoin’ to take no resks of that boy gettin’ 
notions into ’is ’ead, an’ sp’ilt like some of the fancy 
riders aroun’ nowadays. Stoppin’ at a two-pun bottle, 
an’ drivin’ in a wehicle to the course to gallop a ’orse. 
I ’d like the fixin’ of sech chaps ! I ’d make them never 
want to see a wehicle ! But I have not been onmind- 


7 


74 


Some Little of the Angel Still L(ft. 

ful of EcVard’s edecation, as you shall see for yourself. 
Come ’ere, Ed’ard.” 

The lad, who was engaged in folding and putting 
away, ready for use, Don Juan’s rubbing cloths, at the 
first sound of his name, becoming afraid that some 
culpability was attaching to him, got so uneasy and 
anxious that he found it impossible to count correctly 
— he could not make the number come out right, try 
as he would. But it was Mr. Winsdall’s habit to call 
but once, and the consequence was most -unpleasant 
if the call was not promptly answered.. Oh ! Jakey,” 
he entreated, please count these cloths ; there ought 
to be fourteen, six long, and six short, an’ one ’emmed 
with black thread, ’an one that Don chawed the eend 
hoff — fourteen, Jakey,” he emphasized, darting into 
Don Juan’s box. 

Come ’ere, Ed’ard,” commanded Mr. Winsdall, 
an’ tell Mister ’Arry how many twelve an’ twenty- 
four make.” 

“ Thirty-one,” quickly replied the boy, knowing 
full well the incalculable value of an unhesitating 
answer. 

‘‘Did you ’ear that?” inquired Mr. Winsdall, 
pleased at the lad’s promptness, and giving him an 
approving glance. 

“Yes; and that will do for arithmetic. Now, Ed- 
ward,” asked Captain Neville, assuming the role of 
mentor, “ do you know who made you ? ” 

“ I trust. Mister ’Arry,” said old Mat, in an irritated 
tone, “ that you don’t think I am a ’eathen, an’ never 
larnt the boy that? Speak bout, Ed’ard.” 

The lad spoke out and answered correctly 


75 


A Training Stable. 

‘^And now, my little fellow,” once more queried 
Captain ISTeville, displaying an anxious, if sudden, wish 
that his stable should he remarkable for its high type 
of morality, not to say religion, ‘‘can you say the 
Lord’s prayer ? ” 

Old Mat looked grave. 

“I can,” said the hoy, and immediately he repeated, 
“N'ow I lay me down to sleep,” etc. 

Jacob had made the right tally with the rubbing- 
cloths, and standing at the door-way, listened in an 
agony of admiration. 

Old Mat himself was much pleased, and bestowed a 
grin upon the boy, poking him pleasantly between 
the ribs, while exclaiming: “Right; pretty good for 
you! You never would ’ave thought ’e knowed all 
that. Mister ’Arry, now would you ?” 

Influenced by an interior reason Captain Yeville 
forebore to state his opinion, and in still further sup- 
port of the latent motive condescended to personal 
flattery. 

“Mr. Winsdall,” it was his custom to say Winsdall, 
“I believe you are the best living trainer. Yo one 
has the luck you have with horses. If there is any run 
ill them you are the man that will bring it out.” 

Mr. Winsdall was pleased with the compliment, but 
answered modestly, “ I am lucky with ’orses. Mister 
’Arry, but it’s because I jess stay right at my stable 
an’ attend to my biz. I always ’ave said that if you 
want a ’orse to run an’ be a credit to you, you’ve got 
to treat him like a gentleman an’ give ’im a chaunce. 
Then, if you get ’im hup to ’is race in any sort of fix, 
’e’ll be mighty liapt to run some for you.” 


76 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

Captain E’eville, thinking he had paved the way 
sufficiently, now said, “Mr. Winsdall, there is a lady — 
two of them — I would like to bring here to see Don 
Juan.” 

Old Mat puckered up his mouth, making a face of 
the most extraordinary description, but he did not 
answer in a hurry. “ i^ever was nipped at the post in 
my life,” he frequently averred. Shoving his doubled 
digits into the very innermost recesses of his trowsers 
pockets he sauntered slowly around the box-stall in 
meditation, then making a stand directly front-facing 
Don Juan’s owner said, with the determined air of a 
man who has made up his mind and is prepared to stay 
with it to the direst extremity, “ I say. Mister ’Arry, 
I am not agoin’ to ’ave none of that sort of thing goin’ 
on about my stable, I jess ain’t, an’ you will jess ’ave 
to take your ladies somewheres else, you jess will. I 
am surprised at you namin’ sech a thing to me — an’ — 
afore the boy, too,” he added, looking at l^eddy so 
severely that the lad fled in much mental distress, 
trying to remember which of his duties he had over- 
looked or performed with negligence. 

“Winsdall,” said Captain Neville, loftily, “I re- 
quest that you will keep your injurious suspicions to 
yourself. There is no occasion for them.” 

“ Mister ’ Arry,” answered old Mat, sturdily, “ I do ’nt 
set myself hup to be letter A No. 1, yet I will say, that 
I ’olds to more properer idees about some things, I jess 
does, than some what ’olds their ’eads ’igher — an’ what 
I ’ave ’eard, I ’ave ’eard; but ’twant no business 
of mine, an’ I never ’ad no call to speak of it ontil 


77 


A Training Stable. 

the present time — an’, as I said afore, you will jess 
’ave to take your ladies somewlieres else.” 

“ Winsdall, these are ladies’’ interposed Captain ]^e- 
ville, eagerly, and a reddish hue tinged his swarthy 
cheeks, as he continued: ^^This time I have got into 
trouble myself. One of these ladies has it in her 
power to do a great deal for me — I hope to make her 
my wife.” 

“Well, Mister ’Any, if it’s marriage you mean, I 
don’t know that I’m paid to say any thing against it. 
But it is wery strange — parfectly onaccountable to me, 
it jess is — ’ow a man ownin’, all to ’imself, such a 
race-horse as Don should get it into ’is ’ead to want a 
wife, too. Mebhy,” he added, sarcastically, “you^ 
would also like to ’ave the moon an’ a few of the 
stars. ’Owsomever,” checking himself, “there is no 
accountin’ for some people’s redicerless notions, an’ 
you can fetch ’er — the tother one, too, onct. But I 
tell you, wery plain. Mister ’Any, if there is any 
thing that will make me give hup trainin’ ’orses, it 
will be for wimen-folks to ’ave the run of my stable. 
If they want to see a good ’orse — which is not on- 
natral, an’ no fair-minded person can blame them — 
the Hassociation ’as gone to the hexpense to build the 
grand stand for their haccommodation, an’ they can 
go there an’ see their fill. But, I must say, the way 
that wimen — female- wimen ! — ’ave of circulatin’ aroun’, 
puttin’ in an happearance jess whenever an’ wherever 
any thing is to he seen, is ’ighly onproper. An’ they 
is gettin’ worse an’ worse, goin’ on from one thing to 
another, ontil, by an’ by, they won’t be skeered at 
nothin’, an’ a man won’t be able to go to a mill atween 


78 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

two riwal parties, without ’aving daylight scrunched 
into ’is innards with them wimin’s paniers.” 

What are paniers?” asked Captain iTeville, laugh- 

ing. 

‘‘Ain’t you never seen them?” said old Mat, in a 
glow of delight at the superiority of his knowledge. 
“Well, I ’as. ]^ot long ago, in Lunnon, as I was 
parsin’ along by a shop window, I seen ’angin’ hup 
in it some harticles that happeared to me might he 
some new enwention in the way of light-weight sad- 
dles, an’ in I toddled to hexamine them. I thought it 
curus, too, to see a young woman in there presidin’ — 
hut I ain’t never yet dropped back when it comes to 
business. So I wery polite arst ’er if them Jiarticles 
was racin’ saddles? ‘ Scursely,’ she said, in such a pe- 
culiar manner I got riled, an’ ’oped there was no rule 
disqualifyin’ me from takin’ a squint at them. ‘Oh! 
no,’ said she; an’ she fetched one, an’ hexplained what 
the critter was made for — wimin-folks wore them 
strapped somewheres near about the middle-piece 
They wasn’t much to look at, I said, hut they might 
do the wimin-folks a good turn about ’oldin’ hup their 
blankets an’ linseys, and keep them from bein’ drag- 
gled on a muddy track. That young woman larfed, 
an’ larfed so hinsultin’, I let myself hout double- 
quick, I jess did. Wimin-folks is curus,” supple- 
mented old Mat, “an’ the less a man ’as to do with 
them the better it is for ’is business an’ ’is peace of 
mind, it jess is.” 

“ Wliy, Winsdall, you seem to have an antipathy to 
ladies — set against them.” 

“Yes, Mister ’Arry, I am set against them, hut I 


A Training Stable. 79 

don’t feel that tother way towards them, that I knows 
of. Men to themselves, an’ wiminfolks to themselves 
is my motter. I don’t want no free-for-all race for 
Mathew Winsdall to run in. But I don’t take 
nothin’ back, an’, as I said afore, you can fetch the 
lady — tother one too — onct, to see Don. I shaunt be 
doin’ much with him er-morrer, an’ she, likewise 
tother, ’ad as well come then. The sooner its over the 
better, it jess is. Ed’ard, fetch a bucket of water.” 

The water was brought. Don Juan, merely dipping 
his nose in, declined to drink. 

‘‘ Aint a wantin’ water, ’ey, old boy ? ” said the 
trainer to the horse, in the most affectionate accents; 
but his voice changed to very different tones when he 
angrily commanded Jacob and ^STeddy to immediately 
get about somethin’ or nuther,” if they wished to 
avoid the direst penalties. 

Old Mat watched them as they went out rather 
hurriedly, then, in low tones, he said, ‘‘ Mister ’ Arry, 
them two, is the wery best rubber an’ rider I ’ave ever 
’ad in my stables, they jess is.” 

Then, what makes you cut up so rough with 
them ? ” 

‘‘ You ’as to. Mister ’Arry, you jess do, for if ever 
your ’ands find hout they is ondispensible, they will 
go back on you, certin.” 

Such cogent reasoning was satisfactory, and Cap- 
tain Neville merely smiled, saying, “Well, Winsdall, 
your are the doctor. Good-bye, I must be going now. 
Say, shall I bring the ladies about noon to-morrow?” 

“ Wery good. Mister ’Arry ; say about noon, if 


80 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

come they must, which they would not, if I ’ad my 
wruthers.” 

Captain ^N’eville hastily stepped outside, and dis- 
covered Jacob and I^eddy winnowing oats with an in- 
tentness which denoted the near presence of a great 
motive power. He paused, seemingly struck by the 
delicate beauty of the boy, and his air of gentle re- 
tinement, so dissonant to the coarse surroundings. 
With a kindly impulse, he said, Edward, my little 
lad, is there any thing you would like ? ” 

“ Ye — no, sir,” answered the hoy, looking toward 
the trainer, standing at the door of Don Juan’s box. 

Speak out, little man. Let’s have it ; what is it 
you want?” 

Thus encouraged, Heddy proceeded to say that ‘‘if 
Mister Winsdle ’ad no objections, he would like a 
weal pie or a beefsteak.” 

“ Don’t you give the hoy enough to eat, Winsdall?” 
asked Captain Heville sharply. 

“You must be a dreamin’. Mister ’Arry, to arsk 
sech a question. In course, ’e gets plenty to eat— the 
best of wittles — pies an’ cakes, bread an’ merlasses, 
pertaters, and sech. But, I does not allow ’im to till 
’imself hup chuck full of meat an’ gravy — to make 
flesh on me, I jess don’t.” 

“ What’s the difference if he gets as fat as a butter- 
ball, he will not come up to the weight assigned to 
Don Juan? The lead pad will have to come in.” 

“ Mister ’Arry, you are forgettin’ the own brother 
to Don. I calkerlate to ’andle ’im right smart arfter 
weanin’ time.” 


A Training Stable. 81 

“Yes; and in the meantime there is Don Juan’s 
sister.” 

“ Harf-sister, Mister ’Arryp harf-sister. I aint got 
much opinion of ’er. That Touchstone stock is fast 
as lightnin’, but they carn’t go a long route. I despise 
a mile ’orse.” 

“ Look here, Winsdall, it is not right to abuse one of 
the best horses of England, because you have been dis- 
appointed in two or three of his stock.” 

“I aint sayin’ nothin’ against ,the old 'un^ Mister 
’Arry ; hut I ’ave trained more than any two or three 
of his stock — an’, I tell you, they won’t stay.” 

“Very well, all I ask of you is to give the filly a 
fair trial. At noon, to-morrow, Winsdall. Bye-bye.’ 


82 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 


CHAPTER XI. 

DON JUAN ‘‘AT HOME.’’ 

“ There is a time of perfect bliss 
To all of mortals given, 

When laughing joys each other kiss, 

And make on earth a heaven.” 

The hour of noon had arrived after a busy morn- 
ing. Don Juan had been given only a single gallop. 
But that aristocratic horse required a great deal of 
attention ; an imperial infant was never more care- 
fully watched and tended. But by dint of early ris- 
ing, Jacob and Xeddy had got through the ordeal of 
attendance, and had also got themselves and the es- 
tablishment into complete order. 

Under the inexorable rule of Mr. Winsdall, Xeddy 
daily enjoyed a bath of tepid water. The trainer 
gave credence to the hypothesis that by some inscrut- 
able process “ children fattened on uncleanliness,” and 
he had no idea of permitting Reddy’s avoirdupois to 
increase by any such conditions — so easy in his power 
to avert. 

This notable day, it was the lad’s own idea to com- 
memorate by a bath of increased temperature, and 
had almost parboiled himself thereby. But his ap- 
pearance was so comely as he stood in all the glory 
of fresh jacket and trousers, that Jacob immediately 


Don Juan Horned 


83 


informed him that he had Come to the start lit as a 
fiddle.’’ 

Jacob, too, had got himself up with painstaking 
and praiseworthy eftbrt. His articles of attire had 
been purchased from a Hebrew gentleman, who repre- 
sented that he was offering them for sale, “ sheep as 
dirt.” He also made the statement, he was ruining 
himself,” and ought to retire to his back-room and in- 
flict upon himself “ a thousand stripes for being such 
a fool.” 

Jacob was tempted beyond his ability to resist. 
Such another opportunity for a lucrative investment 
might never again occur. So the coat, waistcoat and 
trousers speedily became his in fee simple. 

And the toilet of Mr. Winsdall was such as elicited 
his own personal satisfaction, and the respectful ad- 
miration of Hon Juan’s groom and jockey. The 
horse was of too noble a nature to be affected by the 
absence or presence of fine clothes, although pur- 
chased after he had so distinguished himself in his 
two-year-old form, by Mr. Winsdall, in a glow of 
reckless extravagance, and previous to this occasion 
had not been worn, no opportunity of sufficient im- 
portance occurring. 

It was to be regretted that the ordinary ratio of 
augmented rotundity, to which middle-aged men have 
in general to submit, made no exception in favor of 
Mr. Winsdall, and the combined assistance from J a- 
cob and Heddy was not more than adequate to over- 
come the difficulty of getting him into the clothes. 
But the tailor had been a man of conscience, and had 
used the best of thread, and had not been unduly eco- 


84 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

nomical in the number of stitches, consequently, the 
seams promised well to stand the strain, great as it 
was. True, the freedom of his limbs was somewhat 
restricted. But, Jacob, encouragingly mentioned that 
it was the habit of new clothing to work loose with 
wear.” And as he tenderly uplifted one of the coat- 
tails to gratify himself with a feel of the texture he 
stated his opinion that, ‘‘ Ts highness. Prince Halbert, 
that was own ’usband to the Queen, did not wear su- 
perior broad-cloth — that is, hevery day,” he amended, 
not clear in his mind that the unqualified statement 
was altogether without taint of treasonable impli- 
cation. 

“A nobleman, any ’ow,” Mr. Winsdall was pleased 
to add. 

Neddy, who had been stationed on the lookout to 
watch for, and give notice of the expected arrival, 
now rushed in, his eyes sparkling, to announce, 
‘‘Cornin’.” 

“Jacob, you an’ Ed’ard jess go houtside an’ stand 
to the hofl* of the door-way, ’ats hofl*, an’ toes hout, 
an’ speak when you are spoken to, an’ not hother- 
wise,” admonished Mr. Winsdall, who, to admit the 
truth, darkly felt the shadow of a feeling akin to 
stage-fright creeping over him. 

Jacob and Neddy took a position on the ground 
designated, and obeyed orders about hats and toes, 
and arranged signals of advice and assistance should 
there arise a doubt in the mind of either as to the one 
rightfully addressed, “For it would be onbecomin’ 
for both of us to speak at onct,” observed Jacob. 

At the near approach of the carriage — the supreme 


Don Juan Horned 


85 


moment almost at hand — Mr. Smiley’s courage tailed. 
He abruptly deserted and hid. Mr. Winsdall had an 
awful foreboding of this when he heard the stoppage 
of wheels and no re-assuring sounds from his subor- 
dinates. 

“Jacob! oh, Jacobi” he entreated. There was no 
answer. 

“ Jacob !” This time his tone was sharp. The si- 
lence was dead as the grave. 

“ Jacob,” he growled, “ as certain as I am a livin’ 
man I’ll taste you for this.” 

By this time the visitors had descended from their 
carriage and were on the ground. 

Madame la marquise smilingly shook hands with 
Neddy who, like the hoy that stood on the burning 
deck, had remained faithful to his post, and was at 
this moment the happiest hoy in the world. 

Mr. Winsdall nerved himself to the effort of extend- 
ing a polite welcome, and for this purpose, advanced 
so far as the door, when la marquise flashed upon him. 
A tremor seized him — his feet refused to move — and, 
helpless, he awaited her coming. 

The lady, perfectly aware of his situation, took pity 
on it. She shook hands with him so kindly, smiling 
so sweetly, and called him Mr. Winsdall. (“ I never 
knowed afore what a good soundin’ name it was,” he 
subsequently remarked to Mr. Smiley.) “You, see, 
I know your name,” she said, “ and I am ever so 
much obliged to you for the privilege of visiting Don 
Juan. I have brought this pipe as a little present for 
you, and will feel quite proud if you will accept it.” 


86 Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

Mr. Winsdall received the meershaum with deep 
gratefulness. 

I thank you kindly, mum. No man that can 
smoke can say there ain ’t nothin’ worth-while in liv- 
inV’ and he placed the gift in his breast-pocket, to be 
thenceforth venerated as a relic. 

“ I am not going to stay very long,” said the lady, 
‘‘ and would like to pay my homage to the horse, if 
I may ? ” 

May, indeed ? Had she asked for a pound of his 
flesh, she would have got it — and old Mat would, 
thereby, have lost his life or, at the very least, in- 
curred a heavy surgeon’s hill. 

“ I jess am honored, mum, an’ so likewise is Don. 
But walk in, mum, an’ if ever there was a ’orse 
worthy of your notice, it jess is Don.” 

Don Juan was a horse of marvelous symmetry, 
speed and endurance, hut amiability was not his forte, 
leaving his trainer out of the question. The bond of 
love uniting these two was the ruling passion of each 
life. But to Jacob and Neddy, the persistent acerbity 
of his temperament caused daily trials far beyond the 
scope of ordinary language to express. But, on this 
occasion, he conducted himself like a lamb, and al- 
lowed madame to rub his red-chestnut coat, glossy as 
satin, and to softly stroke him on the nose — submit- 
ting to these endearments with unbounded patience. 

Near the horse, Mr. Winsdall became himself again, 
every atom of mauvaisehoute exorcised in the conge- 
nial atmosphere. 

“Was you ever in the near vicinity of a race-’orse 
afore, mum?” he inquired. 


Don Juan Home” 


87 


The lady replied, that she never had been. 

They is a noble, an’ a hootiful hanimal,” continued 
old Mat, removing Don Juan’s fore-lock from his 
eyes. An’ they run of all sizes an’ in all shapes ; but 
the standard of parfection as to ’ight is fifteen ’ands 
three hinches. An’ the two cardinal p’ints is a well- 
inclined shoulder, an’ a well-bent ’ind leg. The first is 
Don’s fight, it jess is. An’ you can see for yourself, 
mum, that ’e ’as the bother. But, mum,” a shade of 
anxiety crossing his face, “ do you know the shoulder 
from the leg ? ” 

Madame la marquise did ; and she stooped to feel the 
compact and powerfully muscled limbs, when re- 
quested to do so by Mr. Winsdall. Don Juan being 
pleased in the time to masticate her bonnet-strings. 

That is a certain sign of a good race-’orse, mum — 
eatin’ clothes.” 

The lady was much amused until the eccentricity 
of Don Juan’s appetite led him to nibble at her dress- 
skirts. 

‘‘You naughty horse,” said she, giving him a tap. 

The rebuke and blow were taken in good part, and 
Don Juan to show that he felt no malice favored her 
with a caress, such as he had hitherto reserved ex- 
clusively for his trainer — putting out his tongue 
against her cheek, and leaving there fragments of oats 
and hay. 

La marquise was not the least bit annoyed, and 
laughed merrily while wiping her face. 

Then, an unexpected incident occurred. 

It is necessary to relate that Mr. Smiley, after his 
cowardly fiight, had taken refuge in hiding, and as 


88 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

moments were precious, he availed himself of the 
place best suited for the purpose and nearest at hand, 
being a loft over the box of Don Juan, and which 
was composed merely of some loose pieces of timber 
roughly laid for the storage of hay. Although he 
was prevented by diffidence from taking his proper 
part in the scene enacting, yet poor Jacob had a long- 
ing to see. So he slipped aside one of the boards un- 
til he could obtain a pretty fair birds-eye view. But 
getting interested, he endeavored to widen the crack 
and enlarge his facility for observation. It may have 
been his awkwardness, or, it may have been kismet, 
but the treacherous planks slipped far apart, and 
down he dropped, a terrified mass at the lady’s feet. 

Mr. Winsdall glared at him with the fury of a 
tiger; while Don Juan tranquilly gazed at the new 
comer with quiet contempt. Jacob’s piteous glances 
as they roved around seemed to say, ‘‘Won’t some- 
body please to shoot me.” 

La marquise smiled, and said she had many times 
heard of its raining cats and dogs, and even of plumb- 
puddings, but had never heard any mention made of 
a shower of men — a phenomenon seemingly reserved 
as a pleasant surprise for herself ; and, with the 
graciousness, radiating from her like beams from a 
full moon, free for all comers, she acknowledged the 
acquaintance of “ Mr. Smiley,” and was “ glad to see 
him, if he did run away ” from her. 

“ Do they shake hands in England ? ” asked she, 
seeing the tremulous awe of J acob as he gazej upon 
the rosy palm extended to him — for adoration, per- 
haps, he thought — the honor of touching was surely 


Don Juan ‘‘At Horned 


89 


not for him. But the lady did mean it. She was not 
one to do things by halves, and she had decided upon 
being affable. 

The delicate treatment required in the handling of 
Don Juan stood Jacob in good stead, and the hand 
of madame la marquise came out of his grip unin- 
jured. He then considered it de rigueur to execute a 
bow, which he effected of the most elaborate if extra- 
ordinary description, la marquise^ however, seemed 
pleased with the performance, and the few words she 
addressed to him had the general effect of changing 
the perturbed expression on his red, perspiring face to 
one of ineffable content. 

Heddy had taken to the lady at sight, and under 
the encouragement of an occasional smile had, meta- 
phorically speaking, attached himself to her apron- 
strings. And, when Captain Heville, uninffuenced, it 
is hoped, by a mean feeling of envy, bade him ‘‘ Stand 
hack,” la m,arquise patted the curly head, and told 
him to remain where he was. ‘‘ I am fond of boys,” 
she added, when they are little.” 

Mr. Winsdall was secretly charmed with this re- 
mark, discerning, as he thought, a witicism directed 
against the owner of Don Juan — he thought of it 
again in the still hours of night, and repeated it 
to the horse, and supplemented, that she was : “A 
woman with a ’ead on.” 

‘‘ Where is Miss Brown all this while ?” suddenly 
asked la marquise. 

An investigation revealed the missing lady outside 
the reception-room of Don Juan, seated on an in- 
verted bucket. Ho persuasion could induce her to 
8 


90 Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

enter. Horses have heels, and every one of them 
can kick,” she truthfully, if rather impolitely, re- 
marked. Mr. Winsdall turned away his head to hide 
the strong expression of intense reprobation he felt 
toward her. Heither did Jacob nor Heddy regard her 
with sentiments of approval, hut they felt it to he 
their rigid duty to how and gaze fixedly at her, po- 
litely meaning that they held themselves subject to 
her orders. 

Madame la marquise was now preparing to make 
l)er adieux. She gave Heddy a louisdor to buy him a 
kite,” which, she hoped, “ Mr. Winsdall would allow 
him to fiy.” 

‘‘Certin, mum, certin, to he sure,” replied old Mat, 
betrayed into the permission. 

La marquise hesitated. She desired to give some 
souvenir to Jacob, hut could not make up her mind 
to humiliate him by the ofler of money. A gold pen- 
cil, dangling by a chain relieved the dilemma. She 
detached, and presenting it to him, asked if he would 
accept a little testimonial of the pleasant half hour 
she had passed with Don Juan and his friends. 

The gift was received with thanks, not remote from 
dignity. An honest expression of good feeling is 
never ridiculous. 

Good-bye to every body, including the horse,” she 
said, smiling, and waving her pretty hands as to in- 
clude all she was leaving behind. She and her party 
now re-entered her carriage, which was then driven 
rapidly away. Two men and a hoy stood watch- 
ing the vehicle so long as a glimpse of it could 
be seen, then old Mat, with something like a sigh. 


91 


Don Juan ^‘At HorncJ 

turned toward the stable, and in softer tones than he 
liad ever before addressed the lad, said : “ Try Don 
with the water, Ed’ard.” 

It would seem a small thing, this break into the 
routine of their daily stable life — a thirty minutes 
visit from an accomplished, beautiful lady. Yet it ex- 
tended a benign influence — humanizing. Vague yearn- 
ings to he something better, an unconscious elevation 
came of it. 

There are no such things as trifles. “Destiny,” 
“ philosophical necessity,” “ divine decrees,” shape 
their ends not often by mighty convulsions, but by 
the silent, insidious working of events so small as to 
bafile challenge by their insignificance. 

Jacob and Yeddy immediately set about carefully 
encompassing, each, his gift in a covering of chamois 
skin, to be hung about the neck 'to keep the day in 
lasting remembrance. 

“ But I never could ferget it, nor ’er, no ’ow,” said 
Jacob; and Yeddy, at once, in an unrestrained flight 
of fancy common to early youth, boldly, advanced the 
hypothesis : “ The sperits in ’eaven are not beauti- 

ful er than this good lady.” (Could la marquise have 
heard the term, “this good lady,” applied to her, 
what a tempest of angry thoughts it would have 
raised ; how it would have brought back in minute 
detail that which every day of her life she was trying 
to forget ; how often had not her whole nature risen 
up in revolt, crying out: “Ah, me! I never had 
any chance.”) 

When their hour of supper arrived, Mr. Winsdall 
surprised Jacob by an invitation to join him at that 


92 Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

meal — hitherto, he magnihcently ate hy himself, as 
more consistent with the dignity of his position — ‘‘ an’ 
you, Ed’ard, can jess come too.” 

Mr. Smiley washed his hands and hrnshed his hair 
before joining his superior at table — feeling it to he 
necessary in consideration of the condescension. 

And when they were through eating they did not 
rise and hurry oft to bed, hut, for the first time in 
their experience, fell into a pleasant conversation, of 
madame la marquise., of course. Her every word, look 
and action were recapitulated, and admired without 
bounds. 

Even Heddy was privileged to pipe in. He wished 
the ’andicap over, the war over, an’ Mister ’Arry mar- 
ried to the beautiful lady, an’ we was all ’ome again 
across the Channel.” He expressed himself as sure 
they ‘‘would get an occasional sight of the lady;” for 
his part he “ would run a ’arf mile any time to ketch 
a view of the tip of ’er nose,” if “ Mister Winsdle ” 
could spare him, he added. 

Mr. Smiley’s status in life was humble, hut for all 
that his principles were exceptionally good, and un- 
derlying the husk of a rough exterior lay a vein of 
tender kindliness, and he could not find it in his con- 
science to approve of the marriage in high life wished 
for hy Heddy. Although he was “ as hanxious as 
any body” that affairs should march quickly and 
well, and restore them all “ safe ’ome again,” and that 
the place of the lady’s residence should he “ changed 
to Hinglan yet he “ could not say that he would 
like to see that hangel married to Mister ’Arry. 
Hot that Mister ’Arry is without ’is good p’ints, hut 


Don Juan Horned 


98 


’e is as little calkerlateed for a satisfactory fambly 
man as any man I ever seen ; an’,” lie added, so gen- 
uinely honest were liis convictions, if ’e was to pro- 
pose marriage to me termorrer, I would n’t ’ave ’im.” 

“ I jess would n’t be a fool, Jacob,” said Mr. Wins- 
dall. Mr. Smiley was mortified, and remained silent. 

The amity of Mr. Winsdall not yet having worn off, 
he asked in, for him, a pleasant tone of voice : “ I say, 
Jacob, what did make you run hofi* an’ leave me 
to receive the lady all by myself — not countin’ in 
Ed’ard?” 

“ Mister Winsdawll,” was the contrite answer, ‘‘ I 
know it was wery wrong — it was not true-blue ; but I 
could n’t ’ave ’elped it — no — not if I ’d been flogged 
to death — burnt at the stake — ’anged, drawed, an’ 
quartered.” 

The sitting- of the triumvirate now ended. And 
wishing each other good night,” rather shame- 
facedly, at the unusual politeness, they retired to their 
several pillows in the beatific condition of being at 
peace with themselves and all the world. And with 
their sleep came bright dreams of bliss. Bliss as 
tangible, perhaps, as mortals can ever know ; for, in 
dreams — waking or sleeping — our joys and hopes are 
invested with a fanciful design of form and coloring 
unknown when the awakening comes — the dream 
gone. 


94 


Some Little of the Anyel Still Left, 


CHAPTER XII. 

LIGHT SKIRMISHING. 

“ Forgive my rough mood, unaccustomed to sue, 

I woo not, perhaps, as you land lovers do.” 

For the first part of the homeward drive madame la 
marquise was silent. She was reflecting. And the re- 
sult of her internal communing was the conclusion 
that possibly, indeed, probably, that for this once it 
would be best to forego the sweets of revenge — the 
feast of the gods — and not to be lavishly indulged in 
before attaining that immortal rank — and let Captain 
Neville at once go his ways. Her perceptive qualities 
were good, and she began to see that he was not one 
to be lured on and dismissed with the haughty in- 
difterence she had meant ' for his great humiliation — 
something unpleasant would be likely to occur — there- 
fore, it was advisable, then and there, to let him un- 
derstand, without any more ado, that she was, for him, 
ungetable. 

Accomplished ladies have a knack of doing this, 
quietly and eflftciently, and madame la marquise^ being 
perfectly ait fait ^ very gracefully, gave the proper inti- 
mation. But there are none so blind as those who will 
not see — Captain N eville, unmistakably, declined be- 
ing enlightened adverse to his wishes. 

La marquise was annoyed, and blamed his nation- 
ality. ‘‘ English and obstinate,” she thought, coloring 


95 


’ Light Skirmishing. 

with vexation. ‘‘I might escape out of Paris,” she, 
then, reflected. But one glance at her vis a vis^ and it 
was plain as day, that he was just the person to es- 
cape after her, if such should he his humor. 

Madame had her faults, plenty of them, but want 
of directness was not of the number. She resolved 
not to beat about the bush any longer, but to fire a 
good solid shot and break up the enemy’s camp at 
once. 

“ Captain Neville,” said she, I am inexpressibly 
grateful for having seen your horse, and you have my 
heartiest good wishes for his success in the handicap, 
which success I purpose to witness, but being very 
much engaged just now, and very little time for gen- 
eral society, I hope you will not think it a want of 
politeness if I do not invite you to repeat your visit.” 

“ What is your motive in telling me this-?” he asked, 
with directness, rivaling her own. 

La marquise had opened the skirmish, and she was 
not one to run or cry quarter. 

‘‘ Do you not think, monsieur, that it would be only 
commonly civil in you to recognize my indubitable 
right to select my acquaintances — without explana- 
tions ?” 

It would also be only commonly civil,” said he, 
with brutal bluntness, not to recognize that you are 
afraid I might fall in love with you and become an- 
noying.” 

Madame la marquise was not a feeble belligerent, nor 
short of ammunition. She had on hand war mate- 
rials in abundance, and of good quality. 

“ Perhaps, monsieur,'' she replied, with an amused 


96 Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

smile, it is a fear that I might fall in love with you, 
and go to the length of becoming annoying.” Her 
smile degenerated into a laugh, as she added : ‘‘In 
either contingency, neither you nor I would, I think, 
prove a patient sufferer. Therefore, precautionary 
measures are the merest of ordinary wisdom.” 

“ You dislike me,” said he, abruptly, not catching 
the infection of her mirth. Madame la marquise grace- 
lessly remained silent. 

Captain Yeville was no tyro and believed a good 
deal in : “ She is a woman, therefore, may be wooed ; 
she is a woman, therefore, may be won.” So he came 
down to business, and adopting the low caressing 
tones he had on previous occasions used with much 
execution, he murmured : “ It is not given us to con- 
trol our regards, and I now am, or may be, interested 
in hoping that the feelings of madame la marquise 
toward myself may undergo a change.” 

The lady here was vastly amjised, being on well- 
beaten ground, and evidently struggling to keep her 
risibles under reasonable control while she replied : 

“ If you are now, or may be, thus interested, there 
is a remarkable instance in the conduct of such af- 
fairs, furnished by Duke William, of the ugly sur- 
name. His affections were not received with alacrity 
by the unsusceptible Flemish Matilda, and for seven 
long years he brooded over the fair one’s obduracy ; 
then, becoming desperate, he seized her, on her way 
from church, threw her down — spoiling her rich ar- 
ray — and struck her. The maiden’s heart was touched 
and she consented to become his bride. And history 
records they lived forever after in great happiness and 


97 


Light Skirmishing. 

prosperity. To the coronet of Normandy was added 
the crown of England. I think, however," such a 
method of indoctrinating a lady in the mysterious op- 
erations of Cupid has fallen into disuse, and would be 
rather sensational now.” 

‘‘I scarcely know,” said Captain Neville, trying to 
subdue his rising anger, “which to admire most, the 
extent of your historical research, or the motive that 
led you to mention it.” 

“ The motive was irrelevant,” the lady replied, in- 
differently, “ and the historiette stale, and brought for- 
ward with the want of tact and point to he expected 
from my English origin. But why this discussion ? 
I imagine that of all persons in Paris — in France, or 
on the earth — you and I are less interested in the sub- 
jects of love and marriage.” 

It had been Captain Neville’s habit that whatever 
he wanted to go and get — the cost to himself and 
others not considered. If there were difficulties in 
the way, the more desirable was possession— the 
greater zest to enjoyment. Something akin to a fear 
that after all, “ the world was not made for Caesar,” 
gave him an inward torment as he looked at the cold 
beauty of the woman opposite — the Polar sea, with 
its impassable barrier of snow and ice seemed not 
more inaccessible. 

Certainly, the plan which Captain Neville would 
have preferred — the one more in unison with his tem- 
perament — would be to collar her and drag her by 
physical force to the nearest station for performing 
the ceremony which, “ gives this woman to this man.” 
He felt sincerely sorry for himself, but he could see no 


98 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

help for it, he would have to do as others did, ask 
civilly— to behave civilly in the event of a disappoint- 
ment was more than could be expected. 

He constrained himself to remark, in a tone which, 
if not diffident, bore a family likeness to it, that, he 
hoped, madame would not he offended if he ventured 
to ask that she would not include him among those 
not interested in love and marriage. 

La marquise was again amused, and gave a silvery 
laugh. 

“ I wonder,” said she, “ if such a thing can be as I 
hear is mooted in some Higher Law Circle — I am not 
sufficiently informed to give it a local habitation and 
a name. But to every human being is assigned, psy- 
chologically, his or her affinity, or affinities, and when, 
by fortuitous accident they are brought in proximity 
they rush together with the velocity of powerfully 
attracted magnets.” 

Captain ^Teville felt himself to be deserving of 
great praise as he crushed down his rising inclination 
to make a rude speech, and to answer persuasively, 
‘‘ Hot, perhaps, in the exaggerated manner mentioned 
by madame la marquise^ but,” he appealed to madame^ 
‘‘ had she not herself, at times, been impressed with 
aversion, simply at sight?” 

He was answered in the affimative. 

‘‘Why, then,” he asked, triumphantly, “may not 
the reverse sentiment be felt ? ” 

The lady supposed there really was no reason. She 
then turned the subject adrift by asking: “ Can it yet 
be guessed when the fleet will put to sea? ” 

“Ho,” he answered; “ certainly not soon. And I 


99 


Light Skirmishing. 

have a hope that my father and sister may visit Paris 
— and me. And it will give me much pleasure to pre- 
sent to you, madame^ two specimens of English which, 
I am sure, will strike even fastidious madame la 
marquise^ as being without flaw.” 

‘‘Miss Brown is English, and I have a great liking 
for her,” replied madame., evading a direct answer. 
Turning to the companion, she said, using the English 
language : “ I am afraid you have not enjoyed yourself 
much, dear.” The conversation had hitherto boen in 
French. Miss Brown could read and write in French 
very correctly, hut scarcely understood one word of it 
when spoken, consequently, in the foregoing conver- 
sation, she had been, so to speak, left out in the cold. 

“All drives are trying to my nerves, hut this one 
not more so than usual,” she replied, with perfect 
])oliteness. 

The carriage now halted, it had reached the home 
of madame la marquise, who, assisted by Captain E’e- 
ville, descended from the vehicle. The gentleman 
next assisted ^liss Brown in her descent. She sub- 
mitted to the attention with fortitude, very praise- 
worthy, considering the intense dislike she bore to 
this, her countryman, mentally ejaculating, “I do 
hope that madame will send him about his business ;” 
which, indeed, madame was anxious to do. 

But who does not know that only a slight deviation 
from the path that is straight and true often entails a 
circuitous and difficult journey to get hack to the 
place where the diversion was made? 

More than ever madame la marquise now began to 
wish that she were well rid of him, and more than 


100 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

ever regretted her folly in the indulgence of a freak — 
contrary to the warnings from her friend, le ministre — 
which led to his acquaintance ; an acquaintance, she 
saw, that with all her aplomb and tact, she could not 
terminate at will. 

And when he expressed a hope that madame would 
permit him the honor of making an occasional call, 
to keep the entree of her house with the view of in- 
troducing his father and sisrer, who would he strang- 
ers in Paris — never having previously crossed the 
Channel — and he hoped for them something from 
inadame^s goodness, his manner was so perfectly re- 
spectful and well-hred that she found it impossible to 
avoid giving him a cold consent. And with the 
slightest of adieux, both ladies vanished behind a 
door, leaving him alone and lamenting, but not dis-- 
heartened. Oh, no ! There might he vexations and 
delays, hut, of course, he was hound to succeed in his 
suit with the lady. So the sanguine gentleman flat- 
tered himself, laying this pleasing unction to his soul : 
‘‘ I never wanted any thing yet that I did not have it, 
sooner or later.” 


Symimthy Pursued. 


101 


CHAPTER Xm. 

SYMPATHY PURSUED. 

“ 0 wad some power the giftie gie us, 

To see oursel’s as others see us.” 

There are some natures which retain the most pow- 
erful of thein emotions for private use — their fears, 
joys, and hopes are disclosed only to their own hearts. 
It is needless to say that such confidences are never, 
through malice, abused, and the sympathizing inter- 
est thus obtained is far-reaching and genuine. 

Only a few favored individuals have this reticence 
inherent in their organizations. Others acquire it by 
laborious etfort, having an idea that the wearing of 
one’s heart on one’s sleeve is neither dignified nor re- 
spectable. 

So far from having any afliliation with this lauda- 
ble sentiment Captain Xeville was gregarious and 
talkative in the extreme ; and he had no opinion in 
the wide world which he was hot willing to discuss 
with any acquaintance he had. 

The moment he turned from the door of la mar- 
quise he began the pursuit of Lieutenant Raymond 
in order 4;o impose his confidence upon that young 
officer. 

Fortune favored his quest. Very soon he had 
young Raymond cornered, and poured into his unwil- 
ling ears a statement of the aspirations which had so 


102 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

lately seized him, in spite of an explicit request not to 
do so — a wet-blanket, as it were, thrown over his en- 
thusiasm. lie not only felt irritated, hut aggrieved, 
and said, snappishly, ‘‘ What ’s the matter with you, 
Ray, that you won’t encourage a man when I tell you 
I am going to turn over a new-leaf and walk straight 
as a church ? ” 

“ The Colonel will be delighted to hear of it,” was 
the reply ; as I presume, the first line on the new 
leaf will read: ‘ Report to headquarters' for duty.’ I 
must say, Harry, it is an outrageous shame the way 
you treat Colonel Clavering. You well know he would 
never o\w-look the way you keep clear of the regi- 
ment if it were not for the obligations he feels to be 
under to Sir John.” 

“ It will all come right, now, Ray, of course it will, 
I am regularly hooked, this time, and mean serious 
measures, and I repeat to you, I am going to take my 
rightful place, and be a shining light among the use- 
fuls and ornamentals. But, just at present I have a 
great deal on my hands — about la marquise. She is 
not caring for me, Ray — but I am expecting Sir John 
and my sister to arrive.” 

Lieutenant Raymond here entered into a state of 
excruciating amusement, and gave vent to bursts of 
laughter. 

Captain Neville became indignant, and tartly de- 
manded : ^ 

“ What in the mischief are you giggling at ? ” 

“ I beg your pardon, Harry,” answered young Ray- 
mond, without in the least endeavoring to check his 


Symjpathy Pursued. 


103 


mirth. But, who is it you expect to do your court- 
ing — your sister, or le jpere f 

‘‘ Will you be good enough to have some sense, 
Ray,” said Captain I^eville, stiffly. ‘‘ I did expect,” 
he continued, reproachfully, ‘‘ in a matter so nearly 
touching my affections, to receive from you some' 
sympathy.” 

Lieutenant Raymond had now got over his laugh, 
but he still took a humorous view of what he con- 
sidered his friend’s new freak d V amour. 

‘‘ Well, it may be, I have been doing you injustice, 
Harry. I had not given you credit for being in earn- 
est — except very casually, I have an inkling 

that — possibly — you may have caught the tender in- 
fection after the simon pure fashion, and like the 
measles after majority it ’s going hard with you, im- 
paring your mental arrangements. For, such an idea 
of unadulterated unsophisticatedness as that of a 
grown-up woman becoming enamored of one’s near 
kin-people and espousing herself to one at the instance 
of these relatives never before came under my obser- 
vation. Harry you have made a mistake. You may 
be very sure that ladies, when they do care for a man, 
it is for himself — not on account of his properly be- 
having relations.” 

“ Of course, Ray, I know all that. But when you 
have the luck to become besotted about a woman of 
difficult ideas to satisfy — and one you can’t bam- 
boozle — it is not a bad plan to parade the respecta- 
bility of your family as an offset to the past life you 
are not proud of. How, what would you do, Ray?” 


104 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

he asked as if willing to be instructed. ‘‘ Sometimes, 
out of the mouths of babes come words of wisdom’’ 

“ Harry, you have alluded to my youth in a very 
unflattering way. But I. am not resentful, and will 
give you some excellent advice. I would go to the 
lady and tell her, straight-up, my life. I would n’t 
say, if I were you, that it had not been a good one ; 
I would say that it had been a very had one, but that 
I loved her with a sincere, honorable love, and meant 
for her sake to amend, and to be worthy of her re- 
gard, which I would be sound-minded enough to 
know could not be done in a minute, but that a difli- 
cult task lay before me — to live down a bad name and 
build up a good one.” 

“ Oh, Ray, it would take years to do that ! Patience 
is not my virtue. What I want I must have, right 
off.” 

Suppose you could n’t get it — how then ? The 
rule of matrimony, as I understand it, makes the con- 
sent of the lady, she being of legal age, indispensable. 
And of your likelihood to gain the consent of niadame 
la marquise I have no idea. But would suggest, as 
preliminary to the contemplated reform, that you es- 
chew fancy horse-flesh.” 

“jLa marquise likes the turf — goes to the races her- 
self! ” said Captain ISTeville, with animation. 

“Perhaps,” said the young instructor, unflinch- 
ingly, “you have other propensities she may not 
relish.” 

“Have had, perhaps,” answered Captain Seville, 
good-humoredly. “ But I ani the correct card now. 
You can swear by me.” 


Sympathy Pursued, 


105 


‘‘ It is a good plan,” said the lieutenant, “ to swear 
not at all — and an especially good plan not to swear 
by any man until he is dead. I must be going now, 
Harry. I have an appointment to meet Colonel Clav- 
ering. There is a deal to do, and a new bother about 
some transports furnished us by the French govern- 
ment that are said not to he seaworthy.” 


106 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left, 


CHAPTER XIV. 

WE couldn’t recover the sausage. 

“A snake baked a hoe-cake, and set a frog to watch it ; 

The frog fell asleep, and a lizard came and cotch it.” 

We will now return to the domain of Don Juan. 
It was not “ horse time,” and all hands had turned in 
for a brief repose. On the next day would be run 
the City of Paris hadicap. 

Mr. Winsdall, always the first to he astir — he and 
Don Juan had been taking a siesta, and the horse was 
not fairly awake — noiselessly opening the door, came 
out of the stall just in time to see — a short digression 
is necessary to explain what he did see. 

Mr. Winsdall was not a gourmand, neither an epi- 
cure, but his inner man was well-afiected toward a 
species of edible manufactured from the cloven-footed 
abomination of the Israelites, ycleped sausage. Hot 
the kind encased in the cleansed, inelegant, but im- 
portant portions of the animal’s internal economy, 
and fashioned into links ; but good, country-made, 
and put up into cotton hags, and subjected to a smok- 
ing process. 

A few of these bags Mr. Winsdall had brought 
with him, and when far from home in a strange land 
with gratefulness of spirit he had consumed all but 
one — this last one, like the frequently mentioned rose 
of summer, was “ left blooming alone,” dangled under 


107 


We couldn't Recover the Sausage. 

the shedding in front of the stable, transfixed hy 
means of a two-pronged iron fork. Mr. Winsdall 
saw a sight that filled his soul with anger. A dis- 
honest dog, with an upward spring seized the sausage 
and bounded away. 

“Jacob, you an’ Ed’ard, ’urry arter that dawg!” he 
shouted. 

Instantly, the man and boy gave chase on the scien- 
entific principles which leads to the starting two 
horses from the same stable to run down the favorite. 

With a frightful scream, Jacob “ broke out of hand” 
and ran till his breath failed. “ For’ard, ^leddy,” he 
gasped. The boy took up the running in good style 
and closed in near enough the absconding thief to 
throw his cap with effect — for a moment he cherished 
hope — panting and breathless the dog dropped the 
sausage. “’Ooray!” yelled Jacob, coming quickly 
up. But the dog, with recovered breath, picked up 
the sausage and resumed his fiight. Jacob, with 
presence of mind, hurled a pebble with such precision 
that the dog emitted a shrill little yelp, but he did 
not give up his booty nor relax his speed. Onward 
swept pursued and pursuers until an army of dogs 
debouched in a body, by a preconcerted plan, of 
course, and completely covered the retreat. Jacob 
and JS'eddy stopped short, feeling “ dead beat.” 

“It’s no good of goin’ further, IN’eddy,” said Jacob. 
“Blawst that dawg?” Disappointed and crestfallen 
they returned. 

“We could n’t recover the sausage, Mr. Winsdall,” 
communicated Jacob, wiping his flushed face. 

“Well, I jess never did see such an hout,” growled 


108 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

the trainer ; two great no-haccounts could n’t over- 
take a dawg. Get into your ’orse, Jacob, an’ clean 
’im hoff.” 

Jacob did so, deftly and quickly, but Mr. Winsdall 
was in no humor to be pleased, and said, angrily : 

‘‘ Lonk at that ’orse’s harm — you ain’t never touched 
it.” Jacob again went carefully over the well- 
groomed fore-leg. 

“ Scrub that ’oof hoff,” was the next command. 
Jacob stooped to wipe the hoof. 

There was great congeniality between Mr. Winsdall 
and Don Juan; when any thing went wrong with one 
the other was sure to be affected by it. Influenced 
by this spirit, Don J uan lowered his head and in- 
flicted a vicious bite on Jacob’s corduroys, tearing the 
trowsers. Indeed, the injury had a deeper extent. 

Under the action of the pain Mr. Smiley started up 
and made a fearful declaration which, in calmer mo- 
ments he would never have done. He not only pro- 
fessed belief attaching to a horse a soul, but called 
upon the Highest Power to consign that soul to ever- 
lasting punishment. 

Likewise, in the heat of passion, Mr. Winsdall 
made a statement untrue in its implication. 

Mr. Smiley’s mother had not been a female dog, 
but a much injured, a much suffering woman, with a 
husband given to drink and other evils. If her sor- 
rows alone did not kill her, ill-health, overwork, scarce 
and innutritive diet added did. Fortunately, scarla- 
tina got among the motherless little ones and carried 
off all but Jacob, the eldest, who was at the time 
away from home, hired out for a light-weight rider. 


109 


We could nH Recover the Sausage. 

To the use of the foregoing, and other injurious 
expressions, Mr.* Winsdall was strongly addicted — 
and Jacob had never much cared. Social ameni- 
ties had not flourished in his course of life. And 
in the long years which had passed, the memory 
of his mother had grown fainter and fainter — almost 
like a forgotten dream. But since the visit of la mar- 
quise^ something of the feeling that he was a human 
being, and that good conduct entitles a man to respect 
even if he is poor and forced to drudge for his living, 
had come to him. Stray bits of recollection straggled 
back, and the whole, when put together, assumed 
form and shape ; and when by himself, with no one 
to hear him, in a soft, low tone, he called the name 
of ‘‘mother.” 

Scarcely were the words out of old Mat’s mouth 
before Jacob, with flashing eyes, faced him : 

“ Unsay that, you scoundrel; or, by the Lord! I’ll 
have your life.” 

Mr. Winsdall was very far from being a coward, 
and equally removed from using blandishments with 
his subordinates. But it would not do to break with 
the efficient groom the day before the handicap. 

“Don’t be a natural, Jacob,” he said, with blufl:* 
condescension ; “ I ’ave said it for you, that you was 
the best rubber, an’ could get a ’orse’s clothes on ’im 
quicker than any man I ever seen. An’ I was atellin’ 
Mister ’Arry, jess the bother day, that you would be 
fltten to train a stable of ’orses yourself afore your 
’ead was white as cotton.” 

“An’ did you now?” returned the mollifled Jacob. 
“An’, Mister Winsdawll, I halways ’as said it, an’ I 


110 Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

stick to it, you is the best trainer liunder the shinin’ 
sun.” 

“ Give us a paw on it, Smiley, chap. Hold pard- 
ners like we ’ad n’t houghter fall hout.” 

‘‘ JS’o more should we,” was the hearty answer. 

‘‘Jacob, look at that ’orse. I jess never seen any 
thing on top of yearth ’andsomer. The fix ’e ’s in is 
hawful good.” 

“Hawful,” rc})lied Mr. Smiley, looking at Don Juan 
with a critical as well as admiring eye. “ ’E ’ll win 
like a top termorrow ; ’e ’s fit to run for a man’s life.” 

“ Yes, ’e is,” answered old Mat, in a grin, and will- 
ing to favor Jacob with a witticism after their late un- 
pleasantness, he continued: “I am jess agoin’ to 
paint ’is tail sky blue, start ’ini in the lead, an tell the 
whole business to ketch ’im if they can.” 


Trouble. 


Ill 


CHAPTER XV. 

TROUBLE. 

“ Thrice-the brindled cat hath mewed.” 

It was late evening, and one by one the stars ap- 
peared, until the infinity of space overhead gleamed 
with countless lights, and the moon, like a queen, had 
taken her place among the thronging worlds. 

Jacob and Xeddy had brought out a couple of 
buckets which, turned bottoms upward, served as 
seats, and in the beautiful night they sat conversing 
in low tones, almost whispers. Mr. Winsdall, they 
well knew was not agoin’ to ’ave ’is rest, nor like- 
wise that of the ’orse broke in upon.” 

Jakey,” asked the boy, “ do you ever see that big 
bright star? I see it a ’eap of times.” 

Jacob was “ not dead certain,” that he had ever 
‘‘ took notice ” to that particular one — he “ ’sposed ” 
he had though, for he had been looking at them, “ hon 
an’ hoff,” ever since he was a small chap.” 

Jakey, whenever I look at that star, it sorter 
seems to nod an’ blink at me. Look at it, Jakey, an’ 
see if it does that way to you.” A finger indicated 
the star. 

“ Do n’t do that, Xeddy, do n’t,” said Jacob, hur- 
riedly, ‘‘ you must never do that — it fetches bad luck 
to p’int at the stars, But/’ shutting one eye and 


112 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 


squinting horribly, it is wery strange, but it blinks 
at me too.” 

“ Jakey,” said the boy, thoughtfully, “ mebby, it 
means arfter we are dead we shall both live there 
together.” 

^‘hTot onpossible,” replied Mr. Smiley, oracularly, 
for they do say, as I ’ave ’earn, them stars ain’t no 
stars at all, but worlds. An’ it mought be, ITeddy, 
I say mought be, for I do n’t know for certin’, 
that when we is took hout this world we mought 
be took to one of them that is shimmering so hup 
yonder.” 

‘‘ 0-o-o-h ! ” gasped the boy, awed at the immensity 
of the thought. His youthful mind then returned to 
things earthly, ‘‘ Jakey, do you think, arfter we win 
the ’andicap terrnorrer. Mister Winsdall would let me 
’ave a weal-pie? ” 

Mr. Smiley pondered a moment before he answered : 
“ Per’aps, Mister Winsdall mought — for onct — mebby 
a beefsteak too. But sech is not good for you, I^eddy, 
indeed they ain’t. They is the worse things hout for 
makin’ flesh.” 

Yes, I knows they is,” Heddy sighed, ‘‘but when 
I see Mister Winsdle or you put a piece of fat beef or 
bacon atop your bread an’ cut it down with a knife — 
it do look so greasy an’ nice, an’ I am so potempted.” 
Heddy’s eyes grew misty. 

“ In course you is,” was the sympathizing answer. 
“ But it car n’t be ’elped. There ’s no good of wol- 
lopin’ a boy nigh to death to larn ’im ’ow to ride if, 
when ’es larnt ’e is too ’eavy to ride any thing hunder 
a haged ’orse. What makes you halways wantin’ 


Trouble. 


113 


greasy wittles? Most boys ’ave a nat’ral happetite for 
pies an’ cakes.” 

Mr. Smiley did not reflect that pies and cakes were 
unknown luxuries at the ‘‘ work’us ” and that with op- 
portunity the lad had gone 'for these dainties with too 
much avidity and thereby made himself ill, conse- 
quently, his little stomach turned against them forever 
after. 

. I do n’t know,” answered ^N’eddy, sadly, ‘‘onless it 
is as Mister Winsdle is halways tellin’ me, I am sech a 
bad boy — mebby I wasn’t bred right,” he added, 
thinking of the misfortune under which Don Juan’s 
half-sister labored. 

‘‘ Shut your tater trap. You is a good boy enough 
— the way they goes,” supplemented Mr. Smiley, who 
considered unqualifled praise to the face injudicious. 
“ But, to get it hout ’is mouth that ’e is pleased with 
any body, carn’t be done — it would bust ’im wide 
hopen.” 

Jakey, is you agoin’ to stay halways along of 
Mister Winsdle ? ” was Neddy’s next query. 

“No, Neddy, I am not. I don’t calkerlate to be a 
rubber all my life. When I larn the business, I mean 
to set hup an’ train — ’ave a stable of ’orses myself — 
direct their work, an’ ’ave them huuder my control. 
Mr. Winsdawll aint no pleasant party to get on with. 
But ’e hunderstands hall about ’orses — there aint no 
man livin’ that can come nigher gettin’ inside a ’orse 
an’ findin’ hout the marter with ’im when ’e goes 
amiss. An’ ’e knows ’ow to make them run ; ’e is 
the ’ardest man to run against anywheres. Now, 
Neddy, wouldn’t it be grand to see me atakin’ hout 
10 


114 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

my ’orses for th^ir work, an’ you, tlie ’ead.lad, ridiii’ 
in front to set the pace ? ” 

Any other boy would have turned a somersault, or, 
at least, stood on his hands to express the unbounded 
pleasure which thrilled l^eddy through and through 
at the mere mention of this blissful summit of earthly 
. honors and joys. He became subdued and faintly 
murmured, “ Oh, Jakey ! ” 

‘^As onlikely things,” said Mr. Smiley, ’ave ’ap- 
pened afore now. But come on, Neddy, lets get to 
bed, I feel ruther sleepy, an’ we will ’ave to be hup by 
the broke of day.” 

Together they went in, and were soon in their 
separate beds. But the moment Jacob’s head touched 
his pillow he had never been so wide awake in his 
life. Sleep, usually so kind to him, would now have 
nothing to do with him. He turned over and over 
assaying for a position favorable to slumber — he even 
reversed the location of his head, transporting it with 
his pillow to where his feet had been — a popular 
charm against wakefulness — but all in vain. Tlie 
inexorable voice that cried Sleep no more ” to the 
murdering Macbeth, now called out in as imperious 
mandates to this honest son of toil. 

I am oneasy about that boy,” at length, he an- 
nounced to himself. “ I never knowed ’im to be arsk- 
ing of questions afore — an’ p’intin’ at the stars too. 
I never knowed any luck to come along of that.” 

At length his uneasiness became so excessive that 
he rose, and lighting the stable lamp, went to the bed- 
side of the lad. And it was a fair picture that 
he saw. 


Trouble. 


115 


With the extreme grace of early youth the hoy lay 
asleep. His loosened collar was open displaying the 
delicate white neck ; and his hands, though discolored 
and roughened hy labor, were small and exquisitely 
shaped, had taken the pose as if for a sculptor. His 
head was pillowed with a careless, backward turn, 
which had scattered his fair curls into a shining maze, 
and his red lips were slightly parted in a peaceful 
smile. 

Jacob had never looked at Heddy otherwise than 
kindly; now the kind glance was intensified, and 
some obscure ideas may have passed through his mind 
about the eternal fitness of things being difierentiated 
hy the force of circumstances, he only said : “ It hap- 
pears to me, ’e ’ad houghter been some rich 
man’s son.” 

Reassured, Jacob was turning away when, to his 
consternation, he saw the smile on the lad’s face 
change to the pitious look sometimes seen on the face 
of a sleeping infant e’er the child awakes with a cry. 

“ Heddy !” he cried, catching the boy’s shoulder. 

‘‘Why, what’s the marter, Jakey?” asked Heddy, 
sitting up and rubbing his eyes. ‘‘Is it time to get 
hup?” 

“Ho,” answered Mr. Smiley, much • abashed, and 
confused, he resorted to a subterfuge. “ But I wanted 
to arsk you where Don’s light galloping blanket is — 
the yellow striped one ?” 

“Why, ’ow funny, Jakey ! Don’t you mind that 
we put Don’s things — hall that ’e would need — right 
atop ’is clothes box — hall in a pile ?” 

“ So we did,” said Mr. Smiley. “ Dog-on it hall, I 


116 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

must ’ave been thiiikin’ about something, but never 
mind, Neddy, go back to sleep.” 

He retreated precipitately to his own bed, which 
was not destined that night to be for him a place of 
repose. After a weary while of restless tossing, when 
just sinking into a fitful sleep, he was roused by a 
small voice saying : 

“ Please, Jakey, might I turn in with you ?” 

‘‘ What’s that ?” demanded the astonished Mr. 
Smiley. 

I car n’t sleep, Jakey, an’ some ’ow I feel so skeard- 
like, an’ if you would be so good as to let me ’ave 
part of your bed—” 

Mr. Smiley was not agreeable to this. It being his 
often expressed opinion that “ when a fellow car n’t 
’ave a bed to ’isself there is no use in livin’ but he an- 
swered the boy encouragingly : 

‘‘ Be a man, Neddy, an’ go back to your own bunk; 
you ai n’t no babby.” 

The lad began to sob. ‘‘I ’ave been dreamin’, Ja- 
key, an’ I do n’t know what ’s the marter, but I feel 
hall tore to pieces. I am hall in a trem’le, an’ if I 
do n’t get over it, ’ow I am goin’ to ride Don in his 
race termor rer, I do n’t know.” 

Mr. Smiley yielded. ‘‘Well, then, turn in, Neddy, 
an’ mind Jyou keep still. I ai n’t agoin’ to ’ave no 
kickin’.” 

“ Oh ! no, indeed, Jakey,” promised the lad. 

In the hush of a deep silence Mr. Smiley was once 
again almost asleep when the boy’s voice said, “Ja- 
key !” He was disturbed, but he could n’t feel irritated 


Trouble. 117 

with IN'eddy, and asked, very kindly, “ What is it, 
little chap?” 

Jakey, do you think you would mind to kiss me 
afore I go to sleep ?” 

“ IN’eddy, ’ave you done gone clean ravin’ dees- 
trated ?” demanded Mr. Smiley, beginning to fear that 
his patience would go down under such repeated as- 
saults. 

“ IS'o, Jakey,” said the lad, sorrowfully, “ hut, you 
see, I never ’ad no mother like bother hoys. An’ 
do n’t you mind the time Mister Winsdle let me go 
’ome with Billy Mayer to ’elp ’im fetch ’is clothes ? 
’Is mother was so glad to see ’im ! She set ’im down 
beside ’er, an’ she kissed ’im — she did, Jakey. An’ ’e 
war n’t no good boy nuther. Mr. Winsdle took a 
martingale to ’im most hevery day. Nobody ever did 
kiss me. An’ if any thing should ’appen to me ter- 
morrer, mebby you would n’t be sorry if you ’ad 
done it onct.” 

Mr. Smiley was softened, but abashed, and made 
the most suitable answer in his power : 

Look ’ere, Neddy, I ai n’t ’andy at that sort of 
thing. I never was no Sunday-school teacher, hut if 
you ’ave your mind set, why, I ’ave no partickler ob- 
jection.” 

Neddy availed himself of the permission, and with 
his young lips touched the brown, rough cheek, and 
clasping his hands around Jacob’s neck, this poor lit- 
tle waif was soon asleep. 

Poor Jacob was very unhappily situated. “I never 
could sleep on my right side,” he groaned, “ mebby, 1 
monght get around on my back without hawakin’ the 


118 Some Little of ttie Angel Still Left. 

boy, but, then, I’de ’ave the nightmare cert’in.” Very 
soon reflections came which thoroughly and effect- 
ually banished all thoughts of his bodily discomfort. 
“ What did the boy mean by any thing agoin’ to ’ap- 
pen hm ? ’E aint ill nor nuthin’ — but, then, hacch 
dents, bad haccidents do sometimes ’appen — but not 
hoften.” Try as he would, he could not reason his 
apprehensions away ; combat them as lie could, they 
would not dee ; they had come to stay, and to force 
his unwilling mind to recognize sorrows ahead. How 
well he remembered the time when Heddy drst came 
to Mr. Winsdall, and what an obliging, civil, industri- 
ous little lad he always had been. “ Not wicious an’ 
pestersome like bother boys.” And very dear to him 
seemed Neddy, lying so still, his soft breath gently 
fanning his own weather-beaten cheek. ‘‘ The Lord 
bless ’im. The Lord in ’eaveii bless dm,” said Jacob, 
solemnly, and he lay wide awake, hour after hour, 
keeping guard over the sleeping child. 

Not until the grey light of morning peeped in could 
Jacob prevail over himself to cease his watch. But, 
remembering the busy day before him, and the im- 
portance of getting some rest, he closed his heavy 
eyes, and induced by his vigil was fast falling into 
that pleasant vacuity of mind which commonly pre- 
cedes needed slumber, when a sound reached him. A 
sound of concentrated agony — of despair. Knowing 
it must come from Mr. Winsdall, he quickly rose and 
went into Hon Juan’s box. Old Mat’s face was awful 
in his intense grief. “Jacob,” he said almost in a 
whisper, “ Hon ’as sprung a tendon.” 

Instinctively, Mr. Smiley glanced at the horse. 


Trouble. 


119 


quietly eating a small span of hay. There was noth- 
ing to visibly mar the wonderful perfection of form, 
but Jacob, confident of the trainers’ sagacity, knew 
there was no room for doubt — no room for hope. 
And covering his face with his hands he burst into 
tears, ^^othing more was said ; no words could miti- 
gate the deep grief of these two men — Old Mat, rigid 
as stone in his stern silence, while Jacob sobbed in 
unrestrained bitterness. 

The morning sun was shining with great brilliancy 
investing that fair land with surpassing splendor. 
The bright dew lay spread over the green grass like a 
network of pearls, and the tall trees lifted their great 
branches to heaven as if in thankfulness for life and 
beauty, when Captain ITeville rode along on his way 
to visit Don Juan before his race. To this glorious 
panorama he paid no heed. Had the sky been lower- 
ing, threatening rain, he would have got into an ill 
temper, thinking of the muddy course Don Juan 
would have to run over; that his horse would win no 
intrusive doubt annoyed him, he felt sure. 

‘‘What’s the matter with old Mat?” he said, when 
he arrived at the«etable, seeing the closed doors and 
the absence of stirring. “ Overslept, by all that won- 
derful ! ” He dismounted, and unceremoniously 
opened the door, the sight he saw within caused him 
to pause and ask, quickly, “ What’s the matter, Wins- 
dall?” 

“ The ’orse,” was the laconic answer. 

“ The horse is all right,” said Captain He^fille, after 
carefully scanning the racer. 


120 


^ome Little of the Angel Still I^eft. 


’e ain’t all right, nuther. Jess you run your 
’and adown the middle-tendon of right fore-leg.” 

Captain ISTeville’s ungloved hand passed slowly 
down the limh. “ Pshaw,” said he, that amounts to 
nothing — the enlargement can scarcely be felt. You 
are making a mountain out of a mole-hill.” 

Yo, I ain’t nuther,” old Mat sighed. I ’ave been 
trainin’ ’orses too long for that. Mister ’Arry. I never 
seen it fail yet, when your ’orse was goin’ well, an’ 
lookin’ fine as silk, an’ a little lump, no bigger nor a 
pea, comes on a tendon — jess look bout — the first time 
your ’orse is hextended ’e is goin’ to break down.” 

‘‘What are you going to do, Winsdall?” anxiously 
asked Captain Yeville, feeling himself to be in a situa- 
tion entirely beyond self-help. 

“I am jess agoin’ to do all I can do. Mister ’Arry,” 
replied old Mat, sturdily. “ If the ’orse is alive, I am 
goin’ to saddle ’im — take ’im to the course — put the 
boy hup, an’ start ’im in the race. — The hangel 
Gabriel couldn’t do no more.” 

“ He will pull through, I think,” said the owner, 
not altogether disheartened, the injury apparently 
seeming so slight. ^ 

“I ain’t got no great ’opes, I jess ain’t,” answered 
old Mat. The horse had now finished his allowance 
of oats, and came near, affectionately whinnying as he 
poked his nose inside his trainer’s linsey waistcoat. 
A pitying, tender look came into his usually hard 
gray eyes as Mr. Winsdall fondly passed his arm over 
the horse’s neck. “I jess say. Mister ’Arry, I would 
take it for a favor that you leave. I ain’t in no humor 
for no chin-music with no body, I jess ain’t — T am cut 


Trouble. 


121 


down like a flower — . But at the right time I’ll be on 
’and with the ’orse — if Providence permits,” he added, 
making a despairing appeal to the power he seldom 
troubled. 

Captain l^eville returned to his lodgings, ate his 
breakfast, and wandered restlessly about, the spec dis- 
figuring his sky, lately so roseate, became larger and 
larger. ^‘Old Mat is very knowing about horses,” he 
reflected, ‘‘and if he should prove to be right, 
wouldn’t it be hard lines to have the horse break 
down in the race ? And la marquise there to see it ! ” 

lie felt himself to be growing agitated and dejected, 
and to assist nature in overcoming these unpleasant 
emotions he swallowed half a tumbler of brandy. 


11 


122 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

THE CITY OF PARIS HANDICAP — FOUR MILE HEATS — FREE 
' FOR ALL. 

“ I would it were bed-time, Hal, and all well.” 

The attractions of a race-course are many. The 
expectant excitement gives a joyous exhilaration of 
feeling not to be understood by those at home in cold 
blood. 

The amphitheater for the ladies in their gay dresses 
and fluttering ribbons and bright-hued flowers is a 
gorgeous spectacle. 

And in the quarter-stretch a restless throng surge 
and sway where all is animation and excitement. 

Conspicuous objects for the eye to rest upon are the 
jockeys, silken-jacketed ; some of them mounted, ca- 
reering round the course ; others hugging their rig- 
ging waiting to be weighed, and still others under the 
careful watch of a suspicious trainer. 

“ Them perfessionals will throw you hofl:* in a ’arf- 
minute for a goggle-eye,” (hundred pound note) was 
the honest out-pouring of Mr. Winsdall’s sentiments. 
“ But, sometimes,” he added, “ it car n’t be ’elped, an’ 
you jess ’ave to ride them, then, your only chaunce is 
jess to nuss your boy.” 

The hell had rung to saddle ; the allotted number 
of minutes almost expired, still the English horse had 
not appeared ; and not until the very last moment was 


123 


The City of Paris Handkaj>^ etc. 

lie brought on the course, sheeted and booted, led by 
Ills trainer. Jacob and ISTeddy, in his jockey-dress — 

‘ blue and blue ’ — Captain N’eville’s colors, closely fol- 
lowing. 

Before leaving the stable Mr. Winsdall had in- 
structed the boy : “ Ed’ard, mind your heys, an’ do n’t 
get mixed hup in no false start, an’ when the flag is 
fairly down do n’t you ’urry your ’orse to get ’im ofl in 
the lead — do n’t mind the ruck at all, they won’t be 
in the race — but jess you drop day-light ahind the 
Pruusian mare, an’ let ’er cut hout the runnin.’ An’, 
if any time in the first three miles, she lets ’erself hout 
an’ gets away from Don, do n’t be oneasy, but jess set 
steady, an’ keep your ’orse bunder a good strong pull, 
an’ she ’ll come back to him. iTow, pay hattention, 
Ed’ard, in the larst ^undred yards of the larst mile— four 
times aroun' — you creep hup, Much by Much, an’ win by 
harf-a-neck or so. An’ if you set any store by that 
’ide of your’n, don’t win by further than saddle- 
skirts.” 

“Polly with the bootees on!” complacently re- 
marked those individuals who had bet on the Prus- 
sian Frederica. 

“Ph — e^w ! ” whistled Don Juan’s backers; “ he’s 
got his stockings on.” 

Thousands of field-glasses were leveled at Don Juan 
as he was stripped, and no betrayal of the precarious 
tendon. 

“ His condition is simply superb,” said the reassured 
possessors of English .pools. “ Old Mat was playing 
cunning.” Loud cheering greeted the kingly horse 
when with high-born step he approached the post. 


124 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

The UD common beauty of his young jockey also re- 
ceived a round of applause. 

Two gamins who, with the agility of squirrels, had 
climbed up and found seats on an architectural adorn- 
ment, never intended for any such use, enjoyed the 
benefit of a good lookout — a doubtful benefit, if the 
safety of their necks amounted to any thing — each boy 
was interested in a sufficiency of chocolate cremes^ if 
won, to induce serious illness. 

These boys lived in the same rickety tenement 
house, and were born enemies — strove to tear out each 
other’s eyes as babies, when the small brothers and 
sisters into whose care they had been confided de- 
serted them, leaving them side by side on a paving- 
stone, whilst the delinquent nurses joined in the 
games of the fortunate children not affiicted with 
babies; and since arriving at an age to paddle around 
on their own account, few days passed without a bitter 
and bloody battle between them ; but to-day, similar- 
ity of taste and interest rendered them the best of 
friends. 

At the first attempt, the start is given — the horses 
off. 

My eyes ! ” quavered one of these boys, ‘‘ I wish 
I may be everlastingly ding-donged if every last horse 
is not in front of ours.” However, at the finish of 
the first mile the prospect brightened ; all the starters 
but two had dropped back. 

“ Saint Denis ! ” jerked out the other boy, “ but we 
have a chance yet — there is only Frederica ahead.” 

“Do you think he’ll catch her ? ” asked boy Ko. 1, 
with intense solicitude. 


125 


T he City of Paris Handicap, etc. 

“ If ever he does,” said Ho. 2, “ farewell Kalanthy.” 

‘‘ He ’s win ! he ’s win 1” shouted both, in an ecstasy 

joy. 

The English horse has won ! Hurrah, for the red 
chestnut ! Hurrah ! Hurrah ! ” screamed Don Juan’s 
friends, of the masculine gender. 

Polished gentlemen were seized with the furore, 
and clapped their hands and flourished their hats — a 
few of these were tossed up wildly in the air, and de- 
scended a present for any body. 

The ladies, too, got excited, and the flutter of their 
perfumed lace pocket-handkerchiefs created quite an 
aromatic breeze. 

Heddy had obeyed his instructions — winning only 
by a short head. 

^‘Keep back, an’ don’t crowd the ’orse! Keep 
back, every mother’s son of you ! ” angrily commanded 
Mr. Winsdall, hurling a water-bucket and contents in 
the midst of a concourse following after the very hu- 
man instinct of paying adulation to a successful hero. 

Under the cover of wiping oft* dust from Don Juan’s 
legs, the trainer felt the enlarged tendon, and a happy 
glance telegraphed to J acob that there was no increase 
of the injury. “ I believe ’e ’ll pull through,” was 
Mr. Winsdall’s grateful thought. “ Ed’ard,” said he, 
“ you jess did ride that heat like a drummer-boy from 
Waterloo, you did.” The lad flushed with pleasure 
at this praise from his chief. 

Jacob, in the fullness of his joy, when the heat was 
announced, gave a prolonged howl, but was instantly 
checked by Mr. Winsdall : 

“ Stop that screechin’. Keep your fly-trap shut.” 


126 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

Again the bell rings, and the niounted jockeys are 
at the post. There was a slight delay. Don Juan 
had l)acked close to the railing underneath the grand 
stand, and [N’eddy, looking upward, caught the eyes 
of la marquise, ^^'llo smiled down upon him with be- 
witching brilliancy. 

With instinctive good breeding the lad lowered his 
bead, and would have raised his cap, but it was se- 
curely fastened by a twine string, hid under his curls 
— an expedient devised between himself and Jacob to 
prevent its loss in the race. A distinguished favor 
was at hand for him. Madame la marquise leaned 
over the balustrade, and a wreath of white lilies 
dropped over the boy’s head and rested about his 
neck. Thanks, more eloquent than words, went up 
in mute looks to the lady. 

Had ^^eddy.been crowned monarch of the universe, 
he could scarce have felt the same joyful pride that 
sped like lightning through his veins, tingling the 
very ends of his fingers. Pulling out one of the lilies, 
he handed it to Jacob to place at the bridle of Don 
Juan, his companion in the day’s glories and entitled 
to a share of the laurels. Hor could he refrain from 
giving one to Mr. Smiley ; this lily was immediately 
placed in conspicuous position on Jacob’s hat, with as 
much pride as if it had been the Victoria cross. And 
in his great joy, Heddy had the courage to present 
another to Mr. Winsdall, who was pleased, but seemed 
to feel somewhat overcome with embarras de riehesses ; 
he first tested the lily for fragrance, then placed it in 
his button-hole, but fearing for its safety he transferred 
it to an inner pocket. 


127 


The City of Paris Handicap, etc. 

The quarter-stretch cleared, the second start was 
given, and the horses like a flash dashed oft* for their 
long journey of four miles. 

Once, twice, thrice, they came round, precisely as 
in the first heat. The gentleman owner of Frederica 
and the mare’s trainer stood together, side by side, 
watching the race with an absorbed interest; it is 
doubtful if either would have left at the moment to 
attend the death-bed of a mother. Their practiced 
eyes saw Frederica running at a terrible rate of speed, 
and almost at her best; the horse a length behind, 
running under a pull, easily. They saw that this heat 
would but be a repetition of the first, unless it could 
he averted by something in the nature of a miracle. 

will not do to leave it to a close finish,” said the 
owner of Frederica. See, what an awful burst of 
speed the horse has saved up in him ! Had n’t we 
better send the mare along, to try to tire the horse 
before they get in the home-stretch ? ” ‘‘ We can but 

try,” was the answer, as the horses were rushing by. 
“Use the steel ! Drive the mare along ! ” they both 
shouted. 

Old Mat, who was not far oft’, raised his voice, call- 
ing out : “ ’Old ’ard, Ed’ard ! Steady your ’orse 1 

Do n’t give hup your pull ! ” 

The jockey on Frederica dug his rowels deep into 
the mare’s quivering sides. Gallantly the game Fred- 
erica responded — onward she swept, leaving Don Juan 
far behind. 

A frenzied roar greeted the performance. 

The red chestnut horse impatiently shook his ears. 
Was this applause for another — not him ? Suddenly he 


128 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

threw up his head, clenching between his teeth the 
restraining bar of steel, dashed impetuously on, over- 
taking Frederica, rushing past her — on, on he went — 
faster, faster. lie continued this reckless gait — the 
rider powerless to control him — and ran as horse never 
ran before ; the spectators looking on in dumb wonder 
at the marvelous prowess of the great horse. He al- 
most seemed to fly. And when almost at the post, 
the race almost won — oh, horror ! horror ! — he stum- 
bles, rears madly in the air, gives one piercing neigh, 
topples backward, and horse and rider lay overthrown. 
The boy, flung violently from Don Juan, lay white 
and still, his clustering curls and gay jacket bedabbled 
in blood. The white lilies had crowned him for eter- 
nity ! 

Heddy ! ” cried Jacob, in piteous tones, falling be- 
side the boy. Farther on lay the unfortunate Don 
Juan with neck broken. 

‘‘ Oh, my darlin’ ! ” sobbed Old Mat bending low 
and clasping the ensanguined mane of the horse. The 
fast glazing eyes of Don Juan turned toward his 
trainer with a look of love. My darlin’ ! my dar- 
lin’ ! ” repeated Old Mat — tears, hot and briny, filled 
his eyes and rolled down the furrows of his rugged 
cheeks. 

‘‘Wake up, Neddy! wake up!” implored Jacob, 
grasping the boy. The blue eyes opened not. No 
answering smile came to the white lips. 

Neddy’s pilgrimage was over — the bonds of earth 
disenthralled! Emancipated, his pure young spirit 
had soared higher than the clouds — outsoared the 


The City of Paris Handicap^ etc. 


129 


stars — attained even the Everlasting Hills. The pearly 
gates of the Kew Jerusalem had opened wide to re- 
ceive him — the weary limbs were free to lave in ce- 
lestial fountains. The tried, beautiful spirit of the 
humble stable-boy had entered into the full fruition 
of heavenly joy — illimitable and eternal ! Good-bye, 
little Neddy — Pequiescat in pace. 


130 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

RECOVERING HIS WINGS, FLIES AWAY TO HIS KINDRED 
STAR.’’ 

“ Go, where hunter’s hand hath wrung 
From forest-cave, her shrinking young, 

And calm that lonely lioness, 

But soothe not, mock not, my distress.” 

“ Le roi est mort, vive le roif The shouting that 
greeted Frederica, coming in winner, 'svere as loud 
and enthusiastic as if a dead horse did not lie on the 
course. 

“ I will go home,” said la marquise. There was no 
tear in her bright eye, neither did her cheeks pale, hut 
the firm mouth was set and stern. “To live is to 
suffer,” passed through her mind, “and to die is gain, 
even should there be no hereafter.” Beautiful mar- 
quise^ it is for the hereafter that we live. Life, is but 
the ordeal of purification. From disease and pain the 
pearl is formed. And bitter tears, and Infart’s sad 
throbs do but refine the human soul, and render flaw- 
less that crown-jewel desired by the King of Kings. 

After the first shock of the great disaster. Cap- 
tain Xeville turned his eyes toward the throng of 
ladies in the grand stand, hoping to receive a kind 
glance from one of them. But la marquise was already 
gone. 

“ See to all this, Ray,” said he, and hurriedly he 


131 


Recovering his Wings^ etc. 

galloped back to his lodgings, and, oh, shame ! 
drowned his sense of distress in brandy. 

The lifeless form of the ill-fated Don Juan was 
hauled away by a pair of stout dray horses, and in 
some obscure spot put under ground — but never to 
be forgotten by Old Mat. Memory and love for this 
horse will live fresh in his heart so long as his life 
shall last. 

When the hideous truth penetrated the mind of 
Jacob — so loth to receive it — he gathered the dead 
child to his bosom and bore him back to the poor 
stable-dwelling. 

Refusing all help, his own hands reverently, and, 
oh, so lovingly ! made the dear little body ready for 
the grave. Alone, he put Neddy into his coffin, 
screwed down the lid, and then he placed the box, 
containing all of earth he loved, into the plain hearse 
sent by Lieutenant Raymond. 

Bare-headed, he followed to the place of burial. 
Again, refusing assistance, he lowered the coffin into 
the grave, and without help filled it up — no one but 
himself should do ought for Neddy. Some persons 
stood near, brought there by good will. Jacob 
thought it proper to address them a few words of 
thanks — he would omit nothing tending to the de- 
cency of Neddy’s obsequies — “Frien’s, I thank you 
kindly for you acomin’ ’ere. You ’ave done it for 
honorin’ the diseased, an’ I am obleeged to you. But, 
you see, this late business, fetched on mainly by the 
will of Providence, an’ along of p’intin’ at the stars, 
comes ’arder on me than any one else, bein’ as we was, 
stable companions, an’ dearly loved one-a-nuther. 


132 Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

It’s mighty tight papers on me, my frien’s, to give 
’im hup, an’ it does not happear to me now as if I can 
ever get hover it. But, you ’ave done hall you can 
— there’s no more you can do, an’ if, you would hall 
leave, I would he bounden to you.” 

Jacob’s eloquence touched his hearers. They had 
known griefs themselves. They had seen the horse 
carrying all their earthly wealth come in a bad last. 
They had seen the horse they counted on as safe, sure 
to retrieve their fortunes, go hopelessly amiss, and 
^Teddy was not the first boy they had seen perish on a 
race-course. So, with a silent pressure of the hand to 
express their sympathy, they left him alone. 

In infinite distress, Jacob sat down to keep watch 
over that ohlong hillock — he could not yet leave Neddy 
alone. 

The red sun dipped out of sight. The moon and 
stars came out and looked down upon the lonely 
watcher; even the star which ileddy had pointed at, 
and which, Jacob now bitterly addressed : You ’ave 
now got ’im to yourself, an’, I hexpose you are sat- 
isfied.” 

The silvery orb replied not, but its placid beams 
rested with a kindly touch upon the new-made grave. 

Well,” continued Jacob, “pre’aps, ’es got an easier 
berth than ’e ’ad ’ere — it carn’t well be wus — bekase 
’ere it is nothin’ but losses an’ crosses an’ disapp’int- 
ments.” With this expression, having much in it 
which is indubitably true, Jacob slowly rose, and 
slowly returned to the stable, where all was dark, but 
by the audible groans coming from the box-stall of 


Recovering his Wings, etc. 133 

the late Don Juan, he knew that Mr. Winsdall was 
not sleeping. 

Mr. Smiley lighted the lamp and, very sadly, col- 
lected the few articles which had belonged to Neddy. 
These were easily put into a small box which he then 
very carefully fastened with hammer and nails, adding 
a cording for greater security. 

All was now finished, ready for the final effort 
which taxed to the utmost the mental and physical 
powers of Jacob, for, in the strict integrity of his 
nature, the duties of executor, as he understood them, 
could not be omitted. 

With a grasp as vigorous as if clutched in the locks 
of a half-drowned man he was rescuing from a watery 
grave, he seized a pen, plunged it into ink, and, after 
a lapse of time, the following notification, not easily 
read, it is true, was indited : 

‘‘Take notus. Greetins to hall it may concern. 
Know hall men by these present that I, Jacob Smiley, 
’ave seized an’ ’old, an’ do mean to seize an’ ’old the 
within property an’ impertinences belongin’ to Neddy, 
or hotherwise Ed’ard, diseased. An’ if the said Neddy 
or Ed’ard ’as now, or ’as ’ad any bother name to ’ini 
belongin’, it never come to the knowledge of the hun- 
dersigned. 

“In wirture of bein’ ’is stable-companion an’ that 
we dearly loved one-a-nuther, an’ the goods not bein’ 
of a costive description, it naterally follows that I will 
think more of them, an’ take better keer of them than 
any body else. 

“ But if there is any ’eir or ’eirs, as set forth in the 
Stattoot Books of Hinglan’, exist, or hotherwise, an’ 


134 Some Little of the Angel Still Left, 

will make the same bekiiown to me, Jacob Smiley, 
with legal proof an’ affidavies, I will pay the jest walue 
of the within goods. 

‘‘ But, the goods theirselves it is my settled an’ firm 
determination to ’old. In defens^ an’ warantee 
where-hotf I am at hall times prepared to shed my 
blood an’ my money. 

‘‘ In witness of the afore-said judgematical hinstru- 
ment I ’ere-unto set my ’and an’ hafix my seal. 

Jacob Smiley.” 

The above legal document was carefully read, and 
such punctuation added as seemed necessary to Mr. 
Smiley, who, even in the depth of his profound woe, 
was animated by a fitful gleam of satisfaction calling 
up a melancholy smile. “It is not bad,” he mur- 
mured, “an’ if I ’ad been put to it I would ’ave made 
a lawyer.” This writing was fastened to the box. 
Jacob then considered that he had made a final settle- 
ment of Neddy’s estate. 


Faint Heart Ne'er Won Fair Lady. 


135 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

FAINT HEART NE’eR WON FAIR LADY. 

“Yes, love is indeed a light from heaven, 

A spark of that immortal fire. 

With angels shared, by Allah given 
To lift from earth our low desire.” 

‘‘ I want to see Mister ’Arry/’ said the peremptory 
voice of Mr. Winsdall. 

Mister ^Arry's gentleman was as supercilious as any 
of his class, yet, being warned on the present occasion 
by some saving instinct, he civilly answered : 

Captain Xeville is abed and asleep.” 

‘‘ Go, wake hm hup, an’ tell ’im I want to speak 
to ’im.” 

I dursent do it, Mr. Winsdall, indeed, I dursent 
do it — a water-jug or a boot-jack would come flying 
at my ’ead. I had as lief do any thing in life as to 
waken Captain Xeville this day. He is none too peace- 
able the best of times. And when he is crossed it is 
ridiculous the way he do carry on. I do so dread to 
face him, after what ’appened yesterday, that if I did 
not fear it would make matters worse I’de lay up 
with the toothache.” 

Without hearing him through. Old Mat strode past 
him to the chamber of the sleeping lion. The man 
stood, looking after the trainer, murmuring: ‘‘ What 
a want of hintellect some people have about running 


136 Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

into danger. I wouldn’t stand in his shoes for a 
month’s wages.” 

Without hesitation, Mr. Winsdall approached the 
bed on which lay Captain Neville, sleeping the heavy 
sleep induced by strong drink. Mister ’Arry,” he 
called, shaking the sleeper’s ‘shoulder with no gentle 
hand. 

‘‘ Go to h — ! ” was the rough answer. 

Mister ’Arry,” said old Mat, “ I did n’t come ’ere' 
to listen to none of your bad talk. I come about busi- 
ness. So, you jess set up an’ listen to me.” 

Captain Neville did sit up — looking very haggard — 
prepared to listen, and said in a dissatisfied tone : 

‘‘ Cut it short, Winsdall, if it won’t keep. What 
do you want to come here for, pestering a man, when 
he has already got as much as he can stand? ” 

“ I know you ’ave got plenty. Mister ’Arry, to dis- 
commode you, an’ I ’ave plenty too, I jess ’ave. But; 
T am tryin’ to bear it like a Christian, an’ not to ’ave no 
’ard feelin’s toward nobody. An’ I do n’t wish the 
Pruusian mare any ’arm, nor the man what ownes ’er, 
nor the man that trained ’er, nor the rubber that 
groomed ’er, nor, likewise the jockey that rode ’er, 
any ’arm — but, I do wish, from the bottom of my 
’eart they was all in the bottom of h — ! ” This senti- 
ment was sincerely and mutually reciprocal between 
the two men, one of high, the other of low birth, and 
the expression of it gave comfort to both. 

‘‘ Yes,” was the reply, and although it is no end 
bad about the horse ; yet, that’s not all of it for me — 
there is the lady,” he groaned, after what has hap- 


137 


Faint Heart Ne'er Won Fair Lady. 

pened. I am afraid she won’t speak to me. She 
never did like me, you know.” 

Old Mat did not shrink from this burst of confi- 
dence, generous as it was, and asked, bluntly : 

What did you hexpCct to make hout it then ? ” 

‘‘ Oh ! I do n’t know,” again Captain N'eville 
groaned, “but I did have some hope to somehow veer 
around until she might take some liking for me. I 
never found a woman unmanageable before — and I 
never saw one before I wanted to make my wife,” he 
groaned repeatedly, and looked so miserable that old 
Mat was touched with compassion, and seriously 
turned over in his mind the difficulties of the sit- 
uation. 

“ Mister ’Arry,” he replied, at length, “ you ’ave 
your ’ands on the wrong man now — you jess ’ave. 
I am not knowledgeable about female wimin. The 
only one I ever ’ad any hintimate hacquaintance with 
was my step-mother, an’ she was a sweetner, she jess 
was. But, as for that markese, I never laid my heys 
on ’er hequal — an’ if she ai n’t a record breaker, I jess 
never seen one. Likewise, it was wery plain to me 
that she did not care an old ’orseshoe for you. But 
there is no tollin’, this fix you are in might make a 
clean change of programme. I ’ave hunderstood it 
was in the natur of female wimin to take to a man 
arter ’e got into trouble when they would not look at 
’im kind afore. By granny ! that is one good racin’ 
p’nt about them.” 

Captain ^7eville was over-joyed at this crumb of 
comfort, and grappled old Mat’s hand so vehe- 
mently as to draw from Mr. Winsdall the remark: 

12 


138 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left, 

“ My ’and is not made of mush, Mister ’ Arry, but it 
’as feelins’ to it. An’ 1 ain’t never yet opened my 
’ead about the business that fetched me ’ere — an’ busi- 
ness afore pleasure is my motter. Mister ’Arry,” he 
continued, speaking briskly, so as not to be interrupted, 
‘‘ I ’ave been thinkin’ you ’ad as well send Jacob ’ome 
to look arfter the ’orses. Jacob is the most dependa- 
ble ’and I know, an’ any body that shoots at Jacob 
Smiley for a fool will lose ’is load. So I was thinkin’ 
’e could manage with the ’orses, As for me,” a dreary, 
wretched look settled over his face, “ I car n’t train no 
more ’orses now — not till Don’s own brother gets hold 
enough. So, I was thinkin’ it might suit me to go to 
the war. But I couldn’t j’ine no company. Mister 
’Arry. I could n’t hobligate myself to do no regular 
jewty. It is not easy for old dawgs — not callin’ my- 
self a dawg — to larn new tricks. I ’ave ’ad ’ands 
hunder me so long that it would be onpossible for me 
to fall into ranks an’ hobey borders. Hupon my soul ! 
if Lord Raylan ’isself was to give me an border, sharp 
like, I am afraid I should do ’im some bodily ’arm 
afore I rightly knowed what I was doin’. What I 
want, is to get to the front, an’ ’ave a chaunce at the 
fightin’. Couldn’t you fix it for me. Mister ’Arry ? 
I must ’ave somethin’ to devart my mind.” 

Yes, ostensibly, you can go in my personal service, 
and after we land on the Crimea, no doubt you will 
be able to find plenty of opportunities to divert your 
mind.” 

“ That is all I want of you now. Mister ’Arry,” said 
old Mat, gloomily. An’ there is no good in keepin’ 
Jacob ’ere. The sooner ’e goes ’ome the better. ’E is 


•130 


Faint Heart Ne'er Won Fair Lady. 

not ’appy ’isself — poor Jacob — 'e is terrible low down 
about Ed’ard.” 

Send him back to-day, if you like. Have you 
money enough ?” 

^‘Yes, I ’ave. An’ I will he goin’ now. Pre’aps I 
may drop in on you now an’ then ; pre’aps I may not. 
It is not much that any body can cheer me hup now, 
an’ I ’ad best keep myself to myself. But I will be at 
the post ready to start when the bell rings. Good 
day. Mister ’Arry.” Mr. Winsdall started to leave, but 
before he reached the door an important idea occurred 
to him, and he returned to say, “ I ’ave one piece of 
hadwice to give you. Mister ’Arry ; if you really feel 
yourself to be bunder an engagement to run the lady 
down — I mean, to divide stakes with ’er — that ai n’t 
it hexactly, but you know what I mean ! — you jess let 
the brandy junk alone. An’ Mister ’Arry, do n’t get 
dis’eartened every time you let your foot slip an’ get 
hoff your stride. You won’t find givin’ hup hold 
^ hassociations and hold hamusements — which you will 
’ave to do both — easy, but plaguy ’ard. So ’ard, that, 
try as you will, you’ll get ketched sometimes, you jess 
will. But if you ’ave the backbone to stand the 
trainin’, I will lay odds that you end in bein’ a win- 
ner. Good day. Mister ’Arry.” 

That very day Jacob set out for home. He was to 
“have control of the stable, and direct the work of the 
horses.” But the elation of spirit that should have 
come with gratified ambition he did not feel ; but he 
did feel that it was prosperity too late. Alas ! alas ! 
why is it always thus with human aspirations and 


140 


Some Little of the Avgel Still Left, 

human hopes? And oh ! why must it ever be, that if 
to mortals’ longings — yearnings — realization ever 
come, it will inevitably be with such restrictions and 
changes of circumstances as to greatly alloy the pure 
gold anticipated when indulging in the pleasures of 
hope ? 




Good Resoloes Capitulate. 


141 


CHAPTER XIX. 

GOOD RESOLVES CAPITULATE. 

“The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices 
Make instruments to scourge us.” 

Captain Xeville rose and, after the manner of his 
kind, who, either by accident or habit, get overcome 
by heavy potations before retiring, refreshed himself 
with a shower-bath. Then he partook of his cafe noir, 
and invoking the aid of Eros, set out to call upon 
Madame la marquise d^ Hebert. When almost at her 
door, he met Monsieur Felix Duroc, with whom he 
had made acquaintance, and who, after they had 
exchanged salutations, volunteered the information 
that '‘'-madame is indisposed, and seeing no one 
to-day.” 

Can I send her a billet ? ” inquired Captain 
Xeville, striving desperately to be patient and civil. 

‘‘Certainly,” was the answer, and Monsieur Felix 
politely retraced his steps in order to place his own 
writing materials “at the service of Monsieur le Capi~ 
tainef who, quickly, in bold, free characters, without 
flourishes, wrote the following : 

“Will not madam.e see me, and give me a few pity- 
ing words ? I am wretched after the recent miserable 
events. H. X.” 

Monsieur Duroc left the room, carrying with him 
the missive ; and in a few moments there came a rust- 


142 


Little of the Angel Still Left. 

ling of woman’s garments. Captain Xeville started 
up eagerly, only to be confronted with Miss llrown. 
This lady observed his disappointed look, and was 
malicious enough to secretly enjoy the chagrin of her 
countryman; but her manner and tones were per- 
fectly usage du mond while conveying the intelli- 
gence that, ‘^madame is really indisposed and not yet 
risen, but sends expressions of sympathy. And in the 
disasters wldch have occurred, madame feels herself 
to be personally a loser, for, she had given indulgence 
to the hope of inducing Captain Neville to relinquish 
to her the care of the boy whom she had greatly 
fancied.” 

And when Captain Neville’s relatives arrived from 
the island, madame would feel honored by a call. 
‘‘Till then, sir,” supplemented Miss Brown, “aii 
revoir” 

Pending the delivery of this message, the lady had 
remained standing, in order to render the interview as 
brief as possible. 

Captain Neville, perfectly aware of her motive, was 
consumed with an internal longing to throttle the cool 
young woman, but realizing the exigencies of the 
situation, he bowed very politely and did not put on 
his hat until well out of the salon. 

“ I am becoming very gentle and suave of man- 
ner,” was his internal comment ; “ and as the Arabs 
say, ‘I testify on my conscience and honor,’ some 
women can, without effort, vex the righteous soul 
of a saint. 1 think that companion must have in- 
jured me in some previous state of existence^ her 
presence excites such a feeling of antagonism. But 


143 


Good Resolves Capitiilcde. 

1 now see that to resolve upon a thing is to ac- 
complish it. And, from this time on, animated by 
the incentive I have in view, I shall conduct myself 
in a manner suited to the class to which I belong, and 
as to meet the approbation of my father — entirely 
avoiding all dissipation and low company. I will 
now report to head-quarters and resume regimental 
duty.” 

Some writers on ethics will have it, that no one is 
safe within the pale of moral danger ;• presumably, 
owing to natural depravity. Without denying or 
affirming the aphorism, there is no gainsaying the 
great advantage, accruing to most persons by not 
being subjected to temptations. 

It is not necessary to mention how a curiously old 
and broad tessellated pavement is laid down ; it is 
sufficient to say that good intentions are very liable 
to turn traitors and yield at the first summons to sur- 
render, instead of resisting with valor. 

This digression is to prelude that on this bright 
morning it was not given to Colonel Clavering the 
pleasure of welcoming his delinquent officer back to 
duty. 

True, Captain Seville, turning his face in that di- 
rection, did incline his footsteps thitherward. And, 
with the most lofty forgetfulness that the magnificent 
thoroughfares for pedestrians were not held exclu- 
sively for his private use, he jostled repeatedly, and 
otherwise incommoded persons whose right of way 
was equal to his own, until he arrived in view of the 
building assigned to Colonel Clavering for his head- 
quarters, and beheld, from an extempore flagstaft*, the 


144 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

banner of England floating in the breeze. He paused 
to survey and admire it — for when did Englishman 
ever fail in his devoir to the “royal red?” It is only a 
piece of bunting, but it represents an idea. The idea 
of constitutional liberty, guaranteed in the Magna 
Charta wrested by the barons, clad in mail, who met 
the bad King John on the marshes of Kunnymede. 

“ Hello ! Cap,” cried a whilom familiar voice ; “ I 
have been searching the four quarters of this great 
city of Paris to find you.” 

And forthwith it was communicated that the 
speaker was interested in a main of English chickens 
“just crossed over,” and engaged for 2ireneontre with a 
like number of Spanish breed. Ten guineas of our 
money, a fly : “ And, Cap, to tell the holy truth, it is 
a ticklish job I have on my hands, for a gamer lot of 
chickens than those black Spanish ones I never saw, 
and its going to he a tight fit, but with your help, 
maybe I can squeeze through ; for, without flattery, 
you are the best judge of a chicken’s weight and 
pluck I ever saw; and your discretion in matching 
them is unequaled.” 

Captain Keville was not insensible to the compli- 
ment; he would also have been gratified to witness 
and assist in the contest — “ but it won ’t do,” he re- 
flected, “ I must cut that sort of thing.” 

“ I can ’t do it, Flem ” — Flemming was the man’s 
name — “ I am on the trail of a lady,” he said, with 
delicacy — “ A lady, you know, and marriage ahead.” 
Then, with the most unrestricted confidence, Jie en- 
tered into a statement of the condition of his affec- 
tions — his hopes — and the obstacles to be overcome ; 


Good Resolves Capitulate, • 


145 


for, the lady does not like me,” he frankly mentioned, 
but I like her, and I am going in to win, and I have 
got to be no end particular in my sailing. I can ’t 
help you, indeed I can ’t. I am never going to heel 
another chicken. How many did you bring over, 
Flem?” he asked, finding it almost impossible to sub- 
due his rising interest. I might give you some ad- 
vice. But I can not go to the ring. You might as 
well ask Colonel jClavering or the Archbishop of Can- 
terbury.” 

The man of chickens was disgusted, and did not 
conceal his sentiments. 

Turned parson ! Well, Cap., I am disappointed in 
you. I never did expect to see you flicker and fail to 
come to time. But I have always noticed, just let a 
man hanker after a woman and then there is nothing 
too mean for him to do.” 

‘‘Don’t get bumptious, Flem,” said Captain Se- 
ville, soothingly. “ I know it is hard not getting the 
help you expected with the chickens. But there’s 
Turner, why not get him ? He knows about as much, 
or more, than I do.” 

“ The reason why I can’t get him is, Colonel Clav- 
ering has sent him across the Channel to.return a lot 
of damaged overcoats.” 

“ That’s too bad. But I can explain to you the 
situations to take advantage of, and those to guard 
against.” 

“Your explanations would do a world of good — 
wouldn’t they?” sneered Flemming, “in the crowd 
I’ve got to compete against — old hands, and nigh 
about sharp enough to take a man’s eyes out of his 

13 


l4G Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

head without his knowing it. I do n’t so much mind 
the money, hut there ’s the good sport that will be 
ruined, and a splendid lot of chickens that will go 
under for want of proper handling.” 

Captain Neville’s resolution began to waver, and he 
said, hesitatingly : I would n’t mind, just this once, 
Flem, if I were sure that Madame la Marquise L He- 
bert would not hear of it.” 

‘‘How will she hear of it?” Fleming said, eagerly. 
“ I do n’t suppose that she will he there — and who ’s to 
tell her?” 

“ Why, nobody — and, of course, she will never hear 
of it. I’ll stand by you, Flem. It would be shabby 
to desert a countryman in a tight place. Come on, 
let’s go and see the chickens.” 

The “sport” came off, and the English fowls were 
not victorious, notwithstanding the skill and ju- 
diciousness of their handling. 

Miss Brown’s pedestrian accomplishments have been 
alluded to. It was her custom to rise early and take 
a good long “ constitutional ” every day of her life, 
and, in her English fondness for outward air, when 
her walk was accomplished she did not then return 
home, hut passed an hour quietly seated in one of the 
pleasant public gardens. And it so chanced, in this 
way, she overheard a detailed account of the chicken 
tight, and of the active participancy of Captain 
Neville. 

In righteous horror, she fled to the abode of madame 
la marquise., as fast as her feet would carry her, and 
related to that lady, before she was out of bed, the 
dreadful attair. 


Good Hesolves Capitulate. 147 

However, la marquise did not appear shocked to the 
extent expected by Miss Brown, but evinced an un- 
feminine and unbecoming curiosity, and questioned 
her lady informant categorically concerning the modus 
operandi. Very little information was elicited. Miss 
Brown frankly acknowledged that, although the con- 
versation was carried on in English, she had not un- 
derstood very many of the terms and expressions 
used, and was only clear about the leading part, that 
the abominable chicken fight and Captain Heville 
were inseparable. 

The curiosity of madame la marquise was not an 
idle one. She had great decision of character, and a 
mind active and bold in its conceptions, and she de- 
sired to obtain a speaking knowledge of the techni- 
calities of the ‘‘sport” for a purpose that came to her 
like a revelation, and which referred to Captain 
Neville. She now saw her way how, by one grand 
coup., she could relieve herself of that odious, trouble- 
some Englishman. The involuntary pity she had felt 
for him at the time of that dreadful occurrence on the 
race-course, now turned to absolute horror. “ So 
soon,” she thought, “ after the killing of that poor 
child, to engage in such a low, vicious amusement — 
the depravity of the man is without parallel. But I 
will have prepared for him a little surprise he does not 
dream of,” she smiled grimly. 

A few hours later she devised a commission to get 
Miss Brown out of the way, and then sent a message 
to Monsieur Duroc, desiring to see him for a few 
moments. 

She was seated near a window, when Monsieur Felix 


148 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

entered, apparently interested in the passing of the 
persons of Imrable degree who were using the street 
at that early hour. He bade her good morning and 
hoped that he had the pleasure of seeing her quite 
well. 

^‘Monsieur Felix, were you ever at a chicken fight?” 
she asked abruptly. 

Monsieur Felix, reluctantly, admitted that he had ' 
been. “ When a garconf he added, with a view to 
mislead. The efibrt to mislead madame la marquise 
was, however, a failure — to throw dust into this 
lady’s eyes being impossible. 

“ Will you be so kind as to describe one to me — an 
exciting one ? ” she asked. 

Monsieur Duroc essayed the desired description, but 
almost immediately desisted, declaring it “ out of his 
power.” 

“ Could you not make yourself intelligible,” she 
asked, ‘Hf talking to monsieur le ministreV’ 

“ Certainly.” 

‘‘ Then, I beg, that you will consider me, le ministre, 
and describe the divertisement you witnessed yesterday 
afternoon.” 

Monsieur Duroc started. Who can it be,” he 
thought, “ that reports every indiscretion a man may 
commit ? But, very honorably, he attempted no de- 
nial, and cut off from retreat, began the recital — em- 
barrassed by the necessity of softening the idiomatic 
phraseology, and in some instances suppressing it al- 
together. 

Madame la marquise listened attentively, occasionally 


Good Resolves Capitulate. 149 

asking a question tending to the elucidation of some 
obscure term. 

I think I understand,” she remarked at the con- 
clusion. “And now, Monsieur Felix.) I wish to know if 
you have made, or do you contemplate making con- 
fession to Miss Brown?” 

“ Le bon del, forbid !” he quickly replied. 

“ Does not your honor indicate it were best ?” 

“ iTo, madame” stated Monsieur Duroc, emphatic- 
ally, “ Mees Brown is an angel, and I adore Mees 
Brown. But in virtue of her celestial attributes, of 
course, she has very little sympathy with human weak- 
nesses and human mistakes, i^ot for many years 
have I witnessed a chicken fight, but the unusual at- 
tractions yesterday, and so many of our allies being 
present, tempted me ; the latter, indeed, was the cause 
of my going. You know, madame,^’ he continued, 
with a smile, “ that the unusual circumstance of Eng- 
land casting her lot with us in the wager of battle in- 
clines us to enthusiasm in the showing of our regard. 
But I shall never again attend an exhibition of that 
sort, and I do not feel called upon, recklessly, to de- 
stroy all hopes of the happiness of a union with 3Iees 
Naneee, who is simply a created perfection. But, no 
doubt, if Mees Nancee would at times display some 
slight toleration for the earthiness of less favored mor- 
tals — born with a taint of the flesh — my happiness 
would be enhanced, and it would be easier to main- 
tain harmonious relations, Avhich I am, sometimes, 
not adequate to accomplish. However, nothing valu- 
able is attainable without difficulty in the acquisition, 
when Mees Brown becomes Madame Duroc, then all 


150 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left, 

will be changed. There will be no more disagree- 
ments; life will tloAv onward a broad, peaceful river 
of perfect bliss.” 

A Frenchman is nothing if be is not dramatic, and 
Monsieur Felix rolled out his last sentence in a declam- 
atory style, uplifting his right arm as if, then and 
there, invoking the good othces of the Prince of Peace. 

Madame la Marquise smiled, while she remarked: 
“ Such perfect trust deserves a complete realization.” 

Captian Neville did not feel that exalted satisfac- 
tion which should grow out of a conscientious dis- 
charge of duty the day following his exploits in the 
chicken-ring ; although the most exacting of friends 
could not have been otherwise than proud of his ef- 
forts, unsuccessful though they were — his eye was 
quick, his hand steady, and so deeply was he inter- 
ested in Flem’s coming through all right,” that 
only the extreme watchfulness of the opposing side 
secured fair play and prevented overreaching. 

But it was not in his nature to review his conduct 
with the severity of a harsh critic. If there were 
doubts, he claimed the benefit of them. If there were 
none, he fell back on the “ perogative.” 

‘‘ I had to help Flem,” said he, “ and there’s no use 
fretting over it. No one is immaculate, and if I have 
made a slight /aux still, on the whole, I am doing 
as well as could be expected — in a desultory way — 
from fair to average,” and with a placid expression of 
self-congratulation, not exactly suited to the position, 
he mounted his charger. That day, when Colonel 
Clavering’s regiment made its parade, he was in place, 
much to the elderly colonel’s content. So much so, 


Good Resolves- Capitulate. 


151 


that when the parade was over he made it a point to 
shake hands with Captain Neville, meaning thereby to 
express a mute but encouraging appreciation of that 
officer’s return to duty. 

His return for this well-meant kindness was hardly 
fair, being immediately favored with an expose of the 
entangled condition of Captain Neville’s affections, 
his matrimonial designs — not yet fully assured — “ but 
bound to come around all right.” 

Colonel Clavering was embarrassed — distressed; feel- 
ing that he had allowed himself to be ambushed into 
a position of danger from which he could not credit- 
ably extricate himself were the penalty a court- 
martial. 

Honestly, he wished the very best for Sir John’s 
son ; not taking into consideration his personal feel- 
ings for Captain Neville, which must have been of 
strong attachment if there is truth that love grows 
out of great anxiety. After several ineffectual ef- 
forts at speech, Sir John,” was all he could manage 
to say. 

“ Yes, certainly,” was the answer, ‘‘Sir John will 
be delighted I am now going to conduct myself in 
a manner suited to%y station. I am going to become 
the head of a family, with prayers night and morning, 
and all the rest of it,” said the sanguine officer, on the 
instant taking in a range of possibilities. “ Sir John 
and my sister will soon be in Paris. I have written 
to them,” he added, beginning to feel vexed at not 
seeing the animation of his own features communi- 
cated to the grave face opposite, which now assumed 
a relieved look. 


152 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

“Ah ! yes ; that is exactly correct. Sir John’s pres- 
ence is desirable, indispensable, in an affair of mar- 
riage, as you propose. But the time is hardly suitable. 
Think of the war.” 

“ The war be d — ! I beg your pardon. Colonel 
Clavering, but I never can think of but one thing at a 
time. And the suspense I am in would make Job ir- 
ritable. I am no poltroon, though. I could marry 
the lady and embark for the peninsula five minutes 
afterward, and fight, I hope, like an English gentle- 
man.” This remark was so eminently right and 
proper in its conclusion, that Colonel Clavering, read- 
ily condoning its commencement, said warmly: 

“ That ’s right ! God bless you, Harry. There is 
no happiness or prosperity which I do not wish, from 
my soul, for your father’s son.” 

“ Blood will tell,” remarked delighted Colonel Clav- 
ering, after observing, for several consecutive days. 
Captain Neville on parade with his regiment. “The 
boy only sowed an uncommonly large crop of wild 
oats ; he has got through with them now, and will he 
a credit to his father.” Nous loerrons. 


0 


Who Wins. 


153 


CHAPTER XX. 

WHO WINS. 

“ Get thee to a nunnery.” 

Sir John Xeville had suffered such anxiety and 
trouble about his wayward son that, at last, he had 
lost hope which, in every jiarent’s breast struggles on 
for a long existence. 

So, when he saw this son on his ship at Portsmouth, 
and hade him farewell, the hopeful words he spoke he 
was far from feeling, and his secret heart Avent up to 
heaven for an honorable death for his only son. 

An honorable death on the battle-field, fighting the 
battles of his country would make some atonement 
for the shames of his past life. 

Therefore, it was not easy to re-light the dead hope, 
nor place confidence in the many promises breathed 
in his son’s letter, whfch he w^ould have answered 
diflerently but for Hje-' pleadings of his daughter who, 
with woman’s fai^ in one she loves, had not de- 
spaired. 

Let us go to Paris, papa, please, and give to Harry 
the countenance which, he says is needful with Mad- 
ame la Marquise d’ Hebert. Her influence must be 
magical to infatuate him so. And let us hope that 
she is as good as beautiful, and will lead him yet to 
become such a man as we may be proud of. 

Don’t you remember, papa, that the great Athe- 


154 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

nian Cirnon was as remarkable for the misdeeds of his 
youth, as for liis wisdom, valor, and generosity in later 
years — why may it not be so with our Harry ? ’’ 

‘‘Well, daughter,” was the answer, “have your 
way.” 

They were met at Boulogne by Captain Heville, 
who journeyed with them to Paris, showing such def- 
erence to his father, fondness for his sister, and atten- 
tions to them both as was very gratifying. 

We will pass over the interim, and place them in 
the salon of madame la marquise., and I am sorry to re- 
late the interview as it took place, for it forces me 
into an apology for my heroine. 

Madame la marquise was extremely haughty to her 
English visitors, and gave the most chilly returns to 
their civilly expressed salutations. And no adroit- 
ness from father, son, or daughter could engage her 
in conversation. 

She would require a repetition of every remark 
made, and then, turning to another member of the 
party, ask what it was that had been said; and after 
the observation had been again repeated and explained 
would still appear not to comprehend it in the least. 

Captain Neville groaned inwardly, he knew that 
she was acting a part, but he did not dream of the 
length it was going to be acted, and the look he 
turned toward her was not so much one of entreaty 
as it clearly said ; “ You are strong enough to be 
merciful.” 

She took in his appearance, and was struck with its 
marked improvement — the air of swagger and blase 
was quite gone; and it was impossible not to see what 


Who Wins. 


1&5 


a handsome man he was, and how attractive it was in 
his power to he. And the strange thing happened 
that now, when she felt that she had every reason for 
despising him, she was surprised and annoyed to find 
that she had 'never looked upon him so favorably. 
But she was not one to pause or turn back after lay- 
ing hold of the plow-handle — the furrow must be 
turned. Yawning slightly, as if insufferably ennuied, 
she partly raised her left hand and seemed as if mak- 
ing a careful appraisement of the hashing diamonds 
which at that hour usually reposed in their satin-lined 
casket. All at once, her face brightened, and with a 
show of interest, she asked : 

‘‘Did Smiling Billy come across with you. Sir John ? 
Or, perhaps,” she continued, “they have sent over 
Big ugly?” 

Sir John confessed that he did not understand her 
questions. 

“ I did not suppose,” said she, in a displeased tone, 
“ that there was any one so ignorant as not to know 
that the always boastful English have challenged our 
own French champion. Left-handed Jacques, and were 
to bring over one of your Cornwall giants to meet 
him in a contest for the belt — I have subscribed one 
hundred francs for that belt myself — and I do think it 
a matter for wonder that a person whom, I fancy, calls 
himself a gentleman, should know so little, and be so 
apathetic on the subject. And it behooves you, es- 
pecially, Sir John, to interest yourself somewhat after 
the failure of your English chickens, in which your 
son was so concerned.” 


156 Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

She then furnished an animated aocount of the 
‘‘ event.” 

Sir John listened in an embarrassed rage. His 
daughter became frightened, and formed wild schemes 
of flight. Seeing no friendly key -hole visible in the 
closed door, searchingly she scanned the gay parterre 
of roses in the velvet carpet for an augur-hole through 
which she might creep. She began to feel feeble, and 
afraid she might faint in this woman’s house. 

Sir John hastily rose, and hastily making a silent 
adieu, left the room. Miss IN'eville hard on his heels. 

Captain Neville followed his father and sister with 
the wretched sinking of heart that comes from the 
extirpation of hope. Madame la marquise was no 
bungler; she had conveyed to Captain Neville the ir- 
refragible knowledge that the lady-bird was not for 
him.' 

‘‘What is the meaning of this?” demanded Sir 
John, when they were seated in their carriage. 

“ It means,” answered his son, in a low voice, “ I 
now understand the pain I have caused you by my 
conduct.” 

Sir John eyed him sharply, and said : “ The pain 

you have hitherto caused me is as nothing compared 
to that which I now feel. Is this the woman you 
would have made your wife, the companion of your 
sister ? ” 

“ I would, indeed, have made her my wife ! ” ex- 
claimed Captain Neville, vehemently. “ She is a 
woman fit to wed a king ! A woman, the incarnation 
of all that is beautiful in womanhood ! Her influence 
would have redeemed even me ; but that hope is past. 


Who Wins, 


157 


I have been a doting idiot, and it required this morn- 
ing’s experience to prove how fallacious were my 
hopes of winning her.” 

“A lady^^^ said Sir John, with distinct emphasis, 
“ would have shown you that fallacy, had such been 
her inclination, without the exhibition we have wit- 
nessed.” 

“ We will not discuss it further,” replied the son, 
haughtily. But, of one fact you may rest assured, 
the last hope for me is gone ; and if there is a lower 
depth of degradation to which a man may fall, I shall 
soon reach it.” 

The carriage had now stopped, and they all got 
out. 

Captain N’eville, refusing to enter the hotel with his 
father and sister, briefly said: ‘‘You will not probably 
see me again,” strode off. 

Sir John sighed, the lines on his face grew deeper, 
but he only said : “ We will go home, daughter.” 

We will return to see how it fares withia marquise. 
From her troublesome admirer she is now free. Is she 
content? There is no triumph in her face, over which 
the crimsoned tide surges with an impetuous sweep, 
“ I am humbled,” she murmured, “ as I have never 
been before — I, who have had so many shames; but 
this is the first of my own making. Like a coward, 
in order to escape a tumultuous scene with that man, 
I have lowered myself in my own eyes and before 
those of that splendid old gentleman and his daughter, 
the sweet young Englishwoman. What must they 
think of me? And what do I think of myself?” 
Madame la marquise was very far from being a weak 


158 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 


woman ; and, hitherto, she had not hesitated when 
standing face to face with her own heart, to arraign 
and pass an nnhiassed judgment. Now, she faltered. 
The acknowledgment was not enough before that self- 
imposed tribunal that swayed by an unstable equili- 
brium of moral forces she had been guilty of pander- 
ing to an unwarrantable caprice. This was not all — 
she feared there was something, as yet, intangible 
behind, which must never he even so much as 
dreamed of. The haughty head droops, the proud 
lips quiver, and a pearly tear began its trickling 
course, hut is brushed away. ‘‘What is the matter 
with me?” she said, angrily, “that I am behaving so 
like a foolish girl ? ” 

Madame la marquise, the matter is — ^you have exper- 
imented with edge-tools, and performed the not 
unusual feat of cutting your fingers. 


The Boy with ike Bow. 


150 


CHAPTER XXL 

THE BOY WITH THE BOW. 

“ Ob, woman, in our hours of ease, 

Uncertain, coy, and hard to please.” 

Tlie elder Duroc had gone to skep peacefully with 
his fathers. Monsieur Felix was now the head of his 
race ; as such it was incumbent upon him to reside at 
the chateau, where so many of the Durocs had been 
horn, lived, and died, and were buried. It was also 
necessary, 3Ionsieur Felix considered, to be accom- 
panied by Madame Duroc, 'nee Brown ; and the new 
head of the Duroc’s proceeded to obtain Miss Brown’s 
consent, which was, indeed, indispensable. 

Her first observation was : “ I am surprised. Mon- 
sieur Felix, that you would desert madame la marquise.'"^ 

Monsieur Felix replied, that he had not been so 
thoughtless as not to have considered this matter. He 
had a younger brother, to whom he would depute his 
position in charge of madam^s household. 

Miss Brown satisfied on this point, gave the desired 
acquiescence. 

They were conversing in a small parlor sacred to 
Miss Brown’s own use, and the lady, being in a gra- 
cious mood allowed her fiance the privelege of a seat 
beside herself on the English sofa — her shapely hand 
strayed over the carved moldings and gently toyed 
with a tassel pendant. Monsieur Duroc admired that 


160 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

hand, loved it, and felt a caressing inclination, but he 
was far too wise in his generation to make the at- 
tempt. He had stated to Mees Nancee, a number of 
times, and in the most fervid language, the affection 
he felt for her. 

To do Mees Nancee justice, such statements were 
usually received with attention and kindness, although 
she cautioned him against dwelling too frequently on 
a purely personal topic, as liable to degenerate into 
egotism. 

To admit the cold, unvarnished truth, all conversa- 
tion between this lady and gentleman had to be con- 
ducted on singularly disadvantageous terms. On 
many subjects their opinions were so antagonistic and 
so tenaciously adhered to as would overcloud the 
fairest sky and bring on a raging storm. 

Religion had been a theme of fierce and bitter con- 
tention between them, both evincing such a killing 
spirit that, finally, by mutual consent, its mention was 
tabooed. 

It would . seem, therefore, that conversation would 
at times be a little difiicult. However, the war now 
seemed to be a safe issue, their wishes running in pre- 
cisely the same channel. And the theme opened an 
inexhaustible topic, wars coming on so soon after the 
creation of the world. Hot to mention the unhappy 
fratricidal conflict that occurred in the family of 
Adam, the book of Genesis does not conclude without 
the narration of a battle on a large scale, in the Val- 
ley of Siddim, and called the battle of Four Kings 
against Five. And down to the present time wars 
and rumors of wars have occupied the time and at- 


The Boy with the Bow. 


161 


tention of rulers and people with only very infrequent 
intervals of profound peace. 

‘‘As a rule, though,” said Monsieur Felix, “men 
only have engaged in the pastime. But occasionally 
women have astonished the world by the brilliancy 
of their military achievements.” With French gal- 
lantry he dilated upon the exploits of these warlike 
fair ones whose undaunted bravery, shown on the 
gory field, was “ incredibly magnificent.” - 

Unfortunately, his enthusiasm did not stop there. 
In his ardor he was lured on to the dangerous grounds 
occupied by his own paragon of glory: “Oh, that the 
great First Consul,” he exclaimed, “that dead hero! 
Were alive to take command of the allied army. De- 
feat would fiee before him, and victory perch herself 
triumphant upon his banner.” 

Miss Brown regarded the first Bonaparte with dou- 
ble aversion, feminine as well as English, and it was 
against every fiber of her nature to remain silent when 
“ that monster ” was mentioned with praise. 

“I beg your pardon. Monsieur Felix, but success did 
not invariably attend the aggressive movements of that 
person you mentioned. He sometimes met with mili- 
tary disasters of the most signal character. And the 
battles he won were gained by the most reckless waste 
of the lives of his soldiers. He poured out French 
blood like water 1” 

“That great man,” answered Monsieur Duroc, with 
the earnestness of unchangeable conviction, “ had, of 
course, defamers, as did all prodigies. But it is not 
true that, unnecessarily, he shed one drop of French 

14 


162 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

blood. Ills heart was filled with love for France — 
Frenchmen ! He was a father to his people I” 

“An impartial history did say,” answered the stout 
hearted lady, going to inexcusable length in the excess 
of her animosity, that he was father of a good many 
of them.” 

Monsieur Felix bounded to his feet, and only the 
sex of Miss Brown saved her from an immediate blow. 
'Not even could he trade recriminations with a wo- 
man, and recommend to her the non-provocative sys- 
tem as best adapted to those living in glass houses. 
Did not one of the early kings of her own beloved 
island openly acknowledge to twenty of his subjects 
such claims as neither law nor good morals entitled 
them ? 

Politeness is a controvertible term, and has been 
made to change its phases to suit such diverse re- 
(pnrements, that it is difficult to say in what it really 
consists. 

There are those who will have it, that true polite- 
ness is only the outward manifestation of the emana- 
tions of a good heart ; while we all know that the 
Grand Monarque would unbonnet to a milk-maid in 
deference to her sex, which he spared not in the grind- 
ing exactions that led to the awful retribution, at 
which humanity weeps. 

And there was England’s “merry monarch,” who 
never said a foolish thing and never did a wise one, 
apologizing to those around him “for taking so 
long to die.” 

Therefore, Monsieur Felix felt as one sent out to 
meet a well-appointed army without helmet or breast- 


The Boy with the Bow. 


168 


plate and with an empty quiver. Resources of his 
own lie had none. lie could only appeal to the infi- 
nite bar of justice, and say : 

“May the Lord in heaven forgive you,^’ looking at 
Miss Brown with the bitterest reproach. 

As is usual in the ante-nuptial dissensions, the one 
most in fault takes the higher ground and shows the 
most rancor. And Cicero — the old Pagan — said that 
“there was no animal so revengeful as a woman.” 

Miss Brown’s grey eyes rested on him in great an- 
ger for what was only a brief space of time, hut it 
seemed an eternity to the wretched Felix, stricken at 
once with intense remorse. 

“Will you he so good as to leave this room?” she 
requested, “ and in future abstain from speaking to 
me.” 

The enamored Frenchman, who was not willing to 
accede to these requirements, became so abjectly peni- 
tent, that a stone might have shed tears. 

Miss Brown did not weep, but she did what an- 
swered equally well, pardoned the offense. 

Monsieur Felix, being thankful for small mercies, 
would have instantly become joyous and debonnaire 
in the extreme, hut there was something in the back- 
ground which had long weighed heavily upon him. 
In fact, he was charged with an onerous duty. 

Mention has been made that he was a member of the 
Church of Rome, which church, not merely directs 
her children to approach the sacraments of confession 
and communion once a year, hut declares a willful 
neglect so to do, a forfeiture of heaven and a royal 
road to the other most undesirable place. 


164 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

once a year only, but once a month did Mon- 
sieur Felix Duroc make his communion and the requi- 
site confession. And being sincerely honest and pious 
lie kept nothing hack, and his father-confessor be- 
came cognizant of the entanglement with heretic Miss 
Brown, and protested against the projected marriage 
with one “outside the pale of the one true church.” 

But, Monsieur Duroc held out like a man for his 
sweet-heart, and declared that “death alone should 
divide them.” 

Le cure, then announced as a sine qua non, that an 
agreement should be made by which all children horn 
of the marriage should he baptized into the Catholic 
church. 

Monsieur Duroc, alive to the difficulty of speaking 
on this subject to a lady of Miss Brown’s reserve, and 
filled with forebodings, had delayed the matter until 
now, the marriage so near at hand, much longer de- 
lay was not possible. 

It would have occurred to most persons not so sorely 
beset by love and religion at one and the same time, 
that just after a brisk affair of out-post — with casual- 
ties on both sides — was no time to risk a serious en- 
gagement. But, Alonsieur Felix had been so often 
badgered and reproached by the cure, that he was al- 
most beside himself. The appropriate time, it seemed 
to him, would never come. And now, perhaps, it was 
wisdom, the storm having subsided, to take advantage 
of the calm. 

In times of an important crisis the human mind is 
very agile in making suggestions, and it did occur to 
Monsieur Felix to implore the assistance of 3Iadame 


The Boy ivith the Bow. 


165 


la marquise as ambassador, but, to his honor, he in- 
stantly rejected the idea. He would employ no go- 
between, but would boldly and manfully seize the 
dilemma by the horns and succeed or perish. And 
now was the time. 

Monsieur Duroc was far from being tongue-tied or 
troubled with any impediment of speech whatever, 
yet he stammered and hesitated a good deal while 
stating the requirements of his priest. 

Miss Brown heard him through to the end, in si- 
lence. A silence that Monsieur Felix could but feel 
was prophetic of the wrath to come. And he hastened 
to explain the reluctance he felt in speaking of this 
subject to her, and added: “Ho other considerations 
would have impelled me to do so, but motives of the 
purest interest for the immortal welfare of my 
children.” 

“ Your children ! ” said Miss Brown. And there 
must have been something in her tones to cause a 
temporary derangement of Monsieur Felixes under- 
standing, or he would never have blundered on as he 
did. 

“Yes,” he said, “I shall probably have a large 
family. My great-grandfather, left numerous descend- 
ants. My own father was one among nine brothers 
and sisters ; and my father’s family was still larger. 
“ Yes,” he continued, reflectively, “ I shall probably 
have thirteen or fourteen children.” 

“ Would it be too presuming in me,” said Miss 
Brown, “ to ask if you have settled in your mind a 
mother for those children ? ” 

Grey eyes do not flash out some of the emotions so 


166 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

vividly as eyes of some other color, hut for a combina- 
tion of glances striking terror to the soul, they have 
no equal. 

Monsieur Duroc paled, but feeling that his honor de- 
manded an immediate answer, gasped, rather than 
spoke : “ Yourself.” 

‘‘ Well, sir, whatever else I may think of you, I 
must acknowledge, you are candor itself. There is 
nothing more to be said, and it only remains for me 
to return you this.” Pulling off her engagement ring 
and handing it to him. 

Bon cielf exclaimed Monsieur Duroc, ‘‘you can 
not really mean this! You can not be so hard- 
hearted. I thought all women loved children,” he 
urged. 

“ I despise them,” answered Miss Brown. 

Unequivocal as was this reply. Monsieur Felix did 
not hesitate to combat it. 

“Ah, mademoiselle, but think of the time when we 
shall be old and tired of the world, and the world 
tired of us. The loving kindness of dutiful sons and 
daughters will then constitute all of happiness that 
will remain, and be a staff on which to lean in our de- 
scent to the grave.” 

“ You have quite lost sight of the vast trouble of 
early childhood.” 

“ Of course,” he assented, “ there is care involved, 
but also much pleasure. It is a beautiful sight — a 
small child, with beauty of form and features, fresh 
from the bath, and handsomely dressed. And a wise 
Providence has so arranged that the additions will 


The Boy with the Bow. 167 

not cause undue inconvenience, coming as they do, 
en echelonT 

Miss Brown was unconvinced by the force of Mon- 
sieur Duroc^ s reasoning, and with British directness, 
replied, to the effect tliat children were not always 
pretty and well dressed, and recent from the advan- 
tages of the bath. Nor did a family invariably receive 
its members singly. Sometimes they come in pairs. 

‘‘ Good heavens! ” exclaimed 3Ionsieur Felix, did 
not mean to speak of inconsiderate people, who al- 
ways go to extremes. Ajustemilien is ever desirable 
in all things.” 

“ I think,” said Miss Brown', rising, we are pro- 
longing this discussion beyond limits. Tt is really 
most uninteresting to me. I bid you good-morning.” 

‘‘One moment, mademoiselle, stay!” exclaimed the 
impassioned suitor. “ One moment, I implore you ! 
This is — can not he final! The end of the promise 
between us ! The death-blow to our happy future ! ” 

“I am not a fickle French-woman, changeable as 
the wind,” was the offensive answer. 

3Iademoiselle Nancee, your cold-blooded English 
behavior will drive me to distraction! I will join the 
corps de Chasseurs.'’ 

“ It will be a very patriotic thing for you to do.” 

“ Is it your wish, mademoiselle f ” . 

“ I do not consider myself entitled to a wish on the 
subject; and I am not aware of any obstacle in the 
way of your doing just as you like. Should your in- 
clination lead you to join the army, certainly I shall 
feel the friendliest interest in your promotion.” 

This was the feather too much for the camel. 


168 , Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

It is not to be supposed that Monsieur Diiroc had 
remained quietly seated pending the excitement of 
this dialogue. At the first sound of the trumpet, as 
it were, he had bounded from his seat. It is said that 
a Frenchman can not talk with his hands in his 
pockets ; Monsieur Diiroc certainly could not, and his 
gestures were both rapid and vehement, even his foot- 
falls bore no unimportant part in accentuating his 
remarks. But all this was gone now. A great quiet- 
ness came with the crushing knowledge that Miss 
Brown did not care for him. 

The times were long since gone by, he reflected, 
when a woman buckled on her lover s shield and told 
him to “ return with it or on it.” The converse ex- 
isted now ; women wept, and would hold back with 
their puny arms their husbands, sons, and lovers from 
engaging in the perils of battle. Miss Brown had 
never cared for him ! She had been only amusing 
herself! But she had changed all the world for him. 
Yet he must bear it as best he could ; and so, scarcely 
looking at her, and in a low voice, he bade her good 
morning, and quitted the room. 

Miss Brown’s emotions were indescribable — an 
enigma to herself. Her clear-headed insular reason 
told her that she should not suffer herself to be dis- 
turbed by such a mere bagatelle as discarding a suitor 
— ^but she was disturbed. 


If it Please God, 1 will Beturn. 


169 


CHAPTER XXII. 

IF IT PLEASE GOD, I WILL RETURN. 

“ He jests at scars that never felt a wound.” • 

Monsieur Duroc had received his conge ; and Miss 
Brown, free as air, remained where Felix had left her, 
reflecting over the situation. Her heart felt heavy, 
and grew yet heavier, until it seemed to drop with a 
thud into the very soles of her boots. But, as yet, 
she was superior to tears, and made large drafts upon 
her mental resources for consolation, with the inevita- 
ble result. Xotwithstanding the head may possess 
all the advantages of strength and position, yet the 
heart inflicts woeful damage. 

‘‘It is hard,” she murmured, “but there was no 
other way out of it.” She knew full well that Mon- 
sieur Felix would never continue to dance attendance 
at her apron-strings without the assured end of mak- 
ing her Madame Duroc. “And I will just have to 
give him up. I never will consent to marriage. I — 
Merciful heaven ! She stopped short, wondering if 
her eyes deceived her, and if that figure clothed in 
the resplendent uniform of a cornet of chasseurs could 
be Monsieur Felix. 

True, in these days of steam agency, and when the 
lightning from heaven is imprisoned and rendered a 
useful servant, any amount of rapid momentum may 
be expected ; yet it seemed too much to he real that 
15 


170 Some Little of the Angel Still Jj(fr. 

only one short hour could convert the civilian into a 
full-fledged soldier. 

Miss Brown gazed as one bewildered, and whatever 
hope she may have entertained that the appearance 
was not real but some fantastic imagery of her panic- 
stricken brain, his voice dispelled. 

‘‘I have had,” said he, “ the good fortune to obtain 
a vacant commission, which obviated the necessity 
of joining the ranks, which would scarcely have 
been pleasant, although in our glorious French army 
a common soldier may rise, by his valor, to the su- 
preme command. In two hours my division .will be 
moving toward the coast for its embarkation, and, I 
have come to bid you good bye — a gratification, I 
trust you will allow me. I do not come to upbraid 
you, nor to ask by what sophistries you deemed you 
had a right to trifle with an honest man’s affections. 
I have neither the power nor the wish to conquer my 
infatuation, and I would like to bid you adieu at least 
kindly.” 

Monsieur Luroc’s ex fiancee had risen, and stood con- 
fronting him with white face and wild eyes. 

“ Felix ! Felix !” she almost screamed, “ you have not 
joined the army? You are not going to leave me?” 

And before the newly appointed bearer of French 
colors knew what was going to happen Miss Brown 
was clinging to his neck sobbing hysterically. 

To say that Cornet Diiroc was astonished, would but 
faintly typify his sensations. Ilis acquaintance with 
Miss Brown had extended over a period of a whole 
year, at no time of which had he detected a symptom 
that she desired to caress him. He was quite sure 


If it Please God I will Pet urn. 


171 


that lie would have instantly seen it had there been. 
This sudden ebullition almost took away his breath, 
this not being the age of witchcraft, nor the working 
of love-potions, neither yet the manifestation of effect 
without cause ; but he rallied quickly and got in all 
the consolation possible to time extremely limited. 

But the tocsin of war respects neither bridal nor 
bier; its stern mandates must be obeyed though cut- 
ting short the fond farewells of two loving hearts. 

“ Good-bye, darling,” said Monsieur Duroc, tenderly. 
“ If it please le bon DieUy I will return to claim my 
Nancee for my own.” 

Gently he unclasped her detaining arms, kissed her, 
and was gone. 

The barriers of Miss Brown’s reserve from not 
having yielded gradually, had fallen with an instan- 
taneous crash, and, only the unerring certainty of 
being taken up for a lunatic, and incarcerated in a 
mad-house, prevented her from rushing out into the 
open street and shrieking for Felix to return. But, 
with that unutterable longing for sympathy inherent 
in the human race, she sought out Madame la mar- 
quise who had hitherto been gentleness itself to her, 
and unfolded the distress which had fallen upon her, 
which, she said, with sobs, “ was more than she could 
hear.” 

Madame proved but an indifferent comforter. She 
had been very much disturbed by Monsieur Duroc's 
sudden freak for the war, and said, seriously enough. 
Gentlemen are not any too plenty, and when a 
young woman has the good fortune to secure one for 
a sweet-heart, it is a blunder to send him off* to get in 


172 Some Little of the Angel Still Left, 


the waj of a cannon ball. However, it was now 
done, and Miss Brown would just have to be patient 
and control her feelings. Of course, it would be 
preferable, if one could, to swoon away and remain in 
that state for several days, until the acuteness of the 
pain were blunted. But the Millennium was not yet, 
and it was due to one’s-self, and others, tbat-tears shed 
for an absent lover should flow only in the secrecy of 
one’s bed-chamber.” 

In accordance with this rational, if not very sympa- 
thetic advice, Miss Brown retired into the strictest se- 
clusion until she had got over the heavy part of her 
woe, e.,. audible groans and violent sobs. But for 
many long, sad months afterward, no day passed that 
a tear did not fall to moisten and keep alive that 
wondrous flower blooming in her heart, woman’s 
love. A flower so beautiful and fragrant that its per- 
fect blossonl is reverenced by all the world. 


Honor Bright. 


173 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

HONOR BRIGHT. 

Might I choose a career, noble and free, 

E’en the life I would leadj and the death I would die. 
Just this, I would ask, a soldier to be. 

In honor to live, and in glory to lie, 

Amid the slain, for whom a country weeps. 

The mind unfamiliar with army details would be 
amazed at the magnitude and number of its needs, 
yet, steadfastly, progressed the preparations for carry- 
ing war into the enemies’ country, distant many 
leagues of salt water. 

Much time had been consumed before the roaring 
cannon and the hoisted flag signaled : Make ready 
for sea,” to the troops lingering in Paris under orders 
of mobilization. Brave hearts grew heavy. Home 
and friends were to be left behind for an uncertain pe- 
riod, or, perhaps, forever. 

How many of her sons went forth from fair France 
to return never more — to fill bloody graves on the 
Crimea, or to be carried out feet foremost from the hos- 
pitals of Scutari. And for every name on those sad 
bulletins dispatched to Paris with frightful rapidity, 
some home was darkened, some love-torch ex- 
tinguished. 

We have not seen Lieutenant Raymond lately, hut 
that officer has been busy as a bee, always at the right 


174 Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

place, and always merry, never shirking his own duty 
or grumbling when he had more than his fair share. 
It was pleasant to watch his sunny face — serene as the 
evening star, just where the hitter, bad English comes 
in so easy — when tackling somebody’s neglected 
work. Colonel Clavering regards him with especial 
favor, and directs such frequent and affectionate 
glances toward him at their oft-recurring meetings as 
to cause that young gentleman temporary embarrass- 
ment. 

But what of Captain Neville? He never appears 
at any duty, and is rarely seen at his quarters. His 
where-abouts and doings are not, however, matters 
for conjecture, being only too well known. In all 
places where dissipation holds the highest carnival, he 
is there in the midst, and the only sign of grace left 
to him is the persistency with which he avoids his two 
best friends. Colonel Clavering and Lieutenant Ray- 
mond. 

These two are now together in private conversation, 
carried on in low tones, and with sad faces. 

It must be stated that Colonel Clavering, whom we 
have seen strenuously exerting himself in facilitating 
the operations by which the troops were to start for 
the theater of war, has, of late, so far as lay in his 
power, created obstacles and raised hindrances calcu- 
lated to delay the embarkation ; for the reason which 
is now the subject of their anxious discourse. 

They were both aware that it was not Captain Ne- 
ville’s intention to leave Paris with the eorps Larme 
to which he belonged. 

To defeat in some way, or at least postpone the ais- 


175 


Honor Bright. 

grace which Colonel Clavering felt, would attach to 
him personally — to every Englishman — even to Eng- 
land! had been the motives influencing him to such 
conduct, as he said, severely to himself, ‘‘ unbecoming 
in an officer and a gentleman.” 

And now that delay was stretched to almost its last 
limits, they were in a state of mind far from enviable. 
They had canvassed many plans looking to the end 
of getting Captain ,I7eville away from Paris with his 
regiment ; but could settle on nothing that promised 
success. And at last, v/hen almost despairing — a light, 
like that of a star appearing in a rayless sky — illu- 
mined the mind of Lieutenant Raymond, and he said, 
almost joyfully, ‘‘ Colonel, I believe that Erench-Eng- 
lish woman could help us, if she would ; were she to 
try, I am inclined to think she could get Harry to 
consent to leave with us.” 

“ For heaven’s sake 1 For honor’s dear sake 1 go 
to her, and implore her — on your knees, if necessary 
— to assist us.” 

‘‘It would be no pleasure trip, I frankly admit, but 
I would go in a moment, on the mere chance, if I did 
not think that you could eflect more. Go yourself. 
Colonel.” 

Colonel Clavering turned red — turned white — and 
shook like an aspen leaf. 

“ I can not do it,” said he. “ I should not be able to 
think of a word to say to her — and if I did, I would 
not be able to articulate it, Raymond,” he continued, 
persuasively; “you are a pretty talking young fellow 
’ and accustomed to ladies, and it is altogether likely 


176 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

you would succeed, whereas I should only get 
laughed at.” 

“ My dear Colonel,” said the young lieutenant, 
taking into his own one of the honest old hands, and 
looking straight into the honest old eyes, no one 
can laugh at you, the perfect embodinient of all that 
is good and noble. If to the lady belongs any idea of 
truth and honor, she must respect you, and comply 
with a request — nothing to her, perhaps, but the 
world to us.” ^ 

Colonel Clavering’s mind was instantly made up. 
He would go, cost him what it might. 

The new uniform was again in requisition, and 
strengthened and fortified by frequent repeat! ngs of 
the spiritual safe-guard found in the Book of Com- 
mon Prayer: ‘^From all dangerous enterprises and 
perilous undertakings vouchsafe us a safe deliverance, 
good Lord!” he arrived at the mansion of madame 
la marquise in a state of outward calm, and sent in 
one of his own cards on which he had previously 
written a request for a few moments’ conversation 
with madame la marquise — only a few moments — on a 
matter of importance.” 

“ Colonel Clavering, etc.,” read la marquise, when 
she received the card. I do not think I know him. 
I wonder what he wants? However, I’ll see him.” 

Colonel Clavering had on one occasion been pre- 
sented to his own soverign, a woman, by the grace of 
God. Also, as we know, he had on another occasion 
been presented to the French empress. And, up to the 
period of his mother’s death had enjoyed familiar in-' 
tercourse with that lady. And he was now the legal 


177 


Honor Bright. 

guardian of an only sister. This would comprise to 
the full the amount of his intercourse with the female 
sex. Of course he knew there were many other ladies 
in the world — and he did not personally dislike any of 
them. On the contrary, he wished them all well — 
every one of them, hut he did not desire any acquaint- 
ance — he had understood that trouble and unhappi- 
ness frequently grew out of such an acquaintance, and 
had they been omitted in the scale of creation, he 
would not have regretted the omission ; hut, as noth- 
ing had been made in vain, he presumed, they were 
in some way essential, at least, he hoped so ; for his 
kindly heart preferred not to regard them as one of 
the scourges on earth permitted by heaven. 

He had also understood that some of them were fair 
to look upon, but he did not recollect of ever having 
received that impression himself. Yet, as his eyes 
rested on the magnificent beauty of madame la mar- 
quise his truthful heart made the instant acknowledg- 
ment that she was : Lovely as a troop of horse on 
dress parade.” 

Hot for a moment though did Colonel Clavering 
forget the object of his errand. And the importance 
of it, most happily, rendered him self-forgetful — 
honor, may be a chimera ! but it has its devotees who 
will stand by it to the death. 

^^Madame^' said he, with characteristic straightfor- 
wardness, am conscious that my coming here is an 
intrusion. Yet, I am in a great strait, and you alone 
of all the world can help me.” 

“ I am afraid you mistake my influence,” she re- 


178 Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

plied, good-naturedly. ‘‘ But tell me the service you 
wish.’’ 

Colonel Clavering spoke slowly, and with great 
difficulty ; for it almost broke his heart to speak so of 
an Englishman, but the hard truth had to come : ‘‘And 
woe is mine,” said he, sorrowfully, “ that it is my mis- 
erable fate to be forced to say that I have no hope, 
Captain Neville will leave Paris with his regiment, 
now under orders to move, unless, madame, in her 
great goodness, would in some way bring it about.” 

“ Is it possible,” asked the lady with scorn, “ that 
a person of your age and apparent respectability, 
would lend yourself to become an emissary of that — 
amiable — estimable — gentlemanly — person. Captain Ne- 
ville whose escapades are horrifying Paris ? ” 

“ I do not come from Captain Neville, madamef said 
Colonel Clavering, his face crimsoning at the insult. 
“But, it is true, I would do almost anything — submit 
to a great deal personally — for the purpose, even could 
I not reclaim from vice, to save from military dis- 
honor the son of Sir John Neville. I was a poor boy, 
and he obtained for me my commission — I am only 
grateful.” 

“ Grateful ! ” interrupted la marquise, with derision. 
“ Colonel Clavering, would you favor me with your 
carte de visit e, or an autograph, or — any trifle you could 
spare. 1 would prize some memento of a person capa- 
ble of entertaining, for a series of years, bona fide sen- 
timents of gratitude — I wonder that you did not die 
young.” 

“ I do not think, madamef he answered, simply, the 
dark hue of wounded pride still flushing his face, 


179 


Honor Bright. 

‘‘that retaining the sense of an obligation is so rare. 
But it is even a higher motive which has brought me 
here. It is the honor of my regiment — my country ! 
Oh, madamc, save this for me ! I have no claim upon 
you ; but be merciful ! Save for me, more than my 
life. And so long as that life is spared, one human 
being will reverence you as an angel ! ” — tears stood in 
his eyes. 

Madame la marquise was softened, although not 
easily moved to the melting mood. She felt a thrill 
of bitter indignation against Captain Neville as she 
looked compassionately on the homely, sorrowful face 
of Colonel Clavering, whose honest, heroic faithfulness 
made its appeal — knocking at her heart, not loudly, not 
imperiously, but irresistibly, as the pleadings of some 
dear dead voice never thought to be heard again. 

After a pause, she said, gently : “ I would help you 
if I could ; but I know not how. Are you aware it 
is completely impossible for me to make a request of 
Captain Neville ? Nor do I think he would pay at- 
tention to it were I to do so.” 

“ Oh, ” exclaimed Colonel Clavering, his 

face brightening with hope, “ there is nothing impos- 
sible to you ! ” 

Compliments to this woman were as common as the 
food she ate, the air she breathed ; but not often were 
they so heartfelt. 

“Do not be too sanguine, le Colonel. You 
may over-rate my influence. But, /or your sake, I will 
see what I can do that your regiment may not leave 
Paris with an incomplete list of officers.” 

“ God Almighty bless you, madame ! ” burst from 


180 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

the old officer, feeling as if an intolerable burden had 
been lifted from his breast. 

It was an instinct of kindness only which led la mar- 
quise to accompany Colonel Clavering to the door and 
for an instant to lay her hand in his as she stood, wish- 
ing him “health and safety” — the witchery of her 
blue eyes looking up into his. She did not design 
it — but the spell was too potent; Colonel Clavering 
experienced something like the powerful discharge 
from an electric battery to strike him somewhere in 
the cardiac region, and a dormant feeling sprang into 
life. In the twinkle of an eye, the common fate 
of man : 

“ Love is a god, strong, free, unbounded,” 

had overtaken him, and he only knew that he would 
give years of his life to take this woman into his arms 
and kiss her. 

Solemn Avas the farewell he had taken of his only 
sister. Not again in this world might they meet. 
The God of the fatherless, the God of the poor, the 
God of the innocent he had prayed to watch over her 
and to bless her, and he had almost quitted the room 
— his face twitching with emotion and his eyes damp 
with tears — when it occurred to him that he ought to 
have kissed her. lie did not require to think tAvice of 
his duty, but returned at once, and, to his Aveeping 
sister, gave his maiden kiss. Her face being buried 
in a handkerchief, the top of her head received the 
caress. 

And if in giving evidence before a court-martial, 
where, Colonel Clavering believed, the most habitual 


181 


Honor Bright. 

despiser of the truth must, perforce, abstain from 
falsehood, his sentiments had been asked, he would 
have deposed to the effect that, upon taking leave of 
a female relative, it was more affectionate, and by cus- 
tom in a manner rendered obligatory, and every man 
ought to be able to do so ; hut kissing, for a pleasant 
recreation, he could not in his conscience recommend. 
But now, in these days, humanitarians were doing so 
much to ameliorate the condition and lighten the bur- 
dens of mankind, it was probable the custom would 
soon cease. The avant-coureur of improvement was 
already heralded ; for, in ancient times, did not even 
men greet each other after this fashion ? Proofs of 
this were to he found not alone in profane history, but 
the Holy Bible gave clear testimony ; as one instance, 
(lid not Laban run to meet Jacob, and embraced him, 
and kissed him. Kor is it mentioned that Jacob made 
objections, although previously, in kissing Rachael, 
he had exhibited so little fortitude that he ‘‘ lifted up 
his voice and wept.” 

Good Colonel Clavering, was it for this that you 
have lived so many years, and have passed upright 
through a long stretch of web woven for you by busy 
Fate, until at length you have tripped and stumbled 
into the mesh ordained for you ? Alas ! 

“Not fire, nor brazen walls can keep out fate.” 

But, no matter, but a little while and the smart will 
be over. The time is easily marked by the calendar 
when a noble life will meet a noble finish, charging 
the heights at Alma. 


182 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

VENUS VICTRIX. 

“And fiery passions that had poured their wrath 
In hurried desolation o’er his path, 

And left the better feelings all at strife, 

In wild reflections o’er his stormy life.” 

When a strong man, strong for good as well as 
strong for evil, departs wholly from his better self, it 
is a wretched sight — a sight to make the angels weep, 
and implore the all -pitying God to send succor to hold 
back the desperate soul from its final plunge. 

Despairing and desperate. Captain Xeville hurriedly 
trod the crowded rues^ physical efifort ruthlessly de- 
manded by his restless grief. He cared not that his 
regiment had received orders to move. And what 
cared he for the epithets of coward and traitor ? How 
gladly would he be publicly branded as both or either. 
A tumultuous fight to the death in the streets of Paris 
— if before the eyes of la marquise, the better — was 
all he desired. 

Headlong he passed and repassed her door until a 
wild, mad feeling took possession of him to see her 
again. ‘‘And why not, by heaven ! ” said he, fiercely. 

Rudely he wrenched ajar the door, and, pushing 
aside the astonished lackey, made his way to the 
boudoir of madame la marquise. 

She was at that moment in deep thought, refiecting 


Venus Victrix. 


183 


in what way it would he possible for her to comply 
with the promise she had made to Colonel Claveriiig. 
A difficult promise, and a repugnant one, yet she 
would not evade it. But how, when, or where would 
come the opportunity ? — Lo, it was present. La mar- 
quise looked up at hearing heavy footsteps, and she 
saw at once with her penetrating eyes that a task lay 
before her which would in its treatment require the 
united powers of nerve and brain. 

A less courageous woman would have felt fear at 
the bold intrusion, but la marquise was not timid ; and 
there was no shrinking of the well-trained nerves, nor 
tumult in the clear, incisive brain. 

Bon jour, monsieur le Capitainej^ said she, in 
kindly tones, making room to give him a seat on the 
ottomane beside herself, and, without seeming to 
observe how much his appearance had altered for the 
worse, addressed him some common-place civility. 

I would rather you would speak to me in Eng- 
lish,” said he, gruffly. 

“ Certainly,” she answered, ‘‘ if you wish it. My 
English has improved under the auspices of Miss 
Brown, and I believe I have lost entirely the foreign 
accent caught from the instructor who taught English 
at the pensionat. He had been an emigre, and resided 
a long time on your island to evade the pains and 
penalties of having unfashionable politics. He really 
understood and spoke English well, but as a French- 
man. Poor old professor,” said she, with a smile, 
“ his class of mischievous girls, obtuse from perverse- 
ness and love of fun, often drove him to the verge of 
distraction. One day, when we had been more pro- 


184 Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

yoking than usual, he threw his lexicon on the floor, 
stamped upon it, gesticulating excitedly: ‘Young 
ladies,’ he exclaimed, ‘ I am at your mercy ! You will 
have to do as you please. If you were boys,’ he 
added, with a dark frown, ‘ I would know what to do 
with you.’ ” 

“ I imagine,” said Captain Seville, absently, “ he 
was not a paterfamilias^ or he would have known that 
unruly girls could he brought to good behavior by the 
same sort of discipline as is applied to unruly hoys.” 

“ Frenchmen would never acknowledge that.” 

“Possibly not,” he replied, grumly, “hut, I sup- 
pose, after he threw himself upon your tender mercies, 
you made his life unendurable.” 

“ Oh! no, the spirit to torment was exorcised, and 
thenceforth his troubles were at an end. We became 
a model class. Our irate instructor was irate no more 
— he frequently declared that we resembled angels of 
light, which was hyperbole, of course, hut not un- 
pleasant for us to listen to. The dear old professor is 
invalided now, and not in good circumstances, and 
one of his former pupils considers it a pleasant duty 
to supply his few wants and render his closing years 
comfortable.” 

Captain Yeville had ceased to he a listener. A 
mighty struggle was going on in his fierce, ungov- 
erned breast. A demon whispered, ‘‘Now is your time 
to murder this ivoman and yourself.’’^ And wdiat did it 
matter to him about the world ? He was done with 
the world and despised it. And what did it matter 
about the dread hereafter ? One moment of ecstacy 
in dying with her he loved would atone. What right 


Vejius Victrix, 185 

liad slie to live in her insolent beauty, and he so mis- 
erable ? 

Heavily his desperate hand fell and clutched the 
white shoulder, and slowly, from between his closed 
teeth, he hissed : I swear before high heaven, I do 
not know whether I most love or hate you ; whether 
I would rather kiss you or strike you dead.” 

Alas, for her had she trembled; had hut an eye-lash 
drooped ! There was murder in the man’s heart. In- 
stinctively, before the schoolday reminiscence was fin- 
ished, she knew what was coming; but, it was like a 
wave on a rock. She felt no fear, and defiantly, un- 
fiinchingly, her bright blue eyes met his; her 
lips opened for only one word, contemptuously : 

Coward.” 

This touched him as no railing could have done. 
His fingers released their grasp, leaving great purple 
streaks on the fair flesh. 

“ I am a coward,” came from his lips. He bent his 
head down upon his hands, and the heavy drops that 
are sometimes wrung from strong men in their agony 
began to trickle through his fingers. 

“ Captain Heville,” said she, softly, slightly inclin- 
ing toward him, and laying a hand upon his arm, “ I 
think that we can become friends.” 

I do not wish to be a friend of yours,” he answered, 
lifting his haggard face; ‘‘nor, do I want your pity. 
Heaven’s mercy!” said he, impatiently, “ will women 
never learn that there runs in men’s veins something 
warmer than ice-water,” he took her hand and laid it 
in one of his. “ "VYhat a little hand you have,” he 
said tenderly. “You must forgive me, I should not 
16 


186 Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

have come here to trouble you. But I am such an ill- 
conditioned brute. I might have gone on my own 
way as well then as now — there is this advantage in 
going to the devil, the road is broad, and it’s easy go- 
ing to get there.” 

She suffered her hand to lie in his, and replied, in 
tones so low and sweet that his ear drank them in as 
the melody of a song lulling to quiet the disorder of 
his mind: “Bor us both the past has much to be de- 
plored. Your wasted years may not return, but by 
closing the door, you may shut out all that’s behind, 
and stand forth for a new career. A thousand hope- 
ful promises always environ the life of every man. 
But, for a woman, like myself, unsexed by the ordeal 
through which I have passed, love and tenderness — 
the rightful properties of every female heart, and 
more than all the world — are crushed out. The dead 
tree can not live again ; and the joy of a happy mar- 
ried life is to me a eternal forfeit. The absence of re- 
serve, and want of womanly timidity with which I 
tell you this attests my sincerity.” 

‘‘Oh! no, you are not sincere,” said he, eagerly, 
“ or, you under-rate the vast capacity of your affec- 
tions.” 

Madame la marquise smiled a little bitterly as she 
withdrew her hand, and answered, perhaps sorrow- 
fully, yet her clear tones assumed an inffexible ring 
that made each separate indictment stand forth start- 
lingly hideous : “At least I do not under-rate my in- 
stinct of self-preservation, which warns me against 
you — the libertine — the gambler — the drunkard — the 


Venus Victrix. 187 

undutiful son — tlie recreant brother — the faithless 
soldier.” 

lie winced, and a dull red suftused his dark face, at 
the truthful summing up, to him, his delinquencies. 
Yet, there was something in the steady look with 
which he regarded her that made it impossible to con- 
demn him utterly. 

‘‘Madame, I can 'make no defense, and there is no 
hope for me, but what lies in you. I do not ask you,” 
he said, quickly, to take me on trust, I have shown 
such a bad record ; but you, give me a promise con- 
tingent on reform, and I will redeem my character. 
The hope of winning you would be a tower of strength 
and impel me on to all that man may do. To win dis- 
tinction would be easy — I might even accomplish the 
more difficult task, for me, of becoming a good man.” 

“A good man,” she answered, would scarcely wish 
an unwilling bride. You would not then take me if 
I did not care for you ? ” 

Yes, I would,” said he, bluntly, I would take 
you on any terms I could get you. Understand me, 
ynadame, no other incentive could sustain me in the 
struggle I shall have to make. You do not know how 
hard it will be for me to fight against old habits. Evil 
associations Avill hunt me up to drag me back! Evil 
inclinations will tempt me to fall daily!. Almost 
every hour there will be some bad passion to over- 
come. Yet, for you, I would triumph — my love ! my 
love ! ” — rang out in passionate pleading. 

The soft air, odorous with perfume of the sweet 
fiowers that so plentifully decked the boudoir — oriental 
in its luxury — stirred the rich lace curtains, and blew 


188 tiome Little of the Angel Still Left. 

the yellow tresses of that fair woman over against the 
raven locks of the man, who with the ardor of his 
feelings strained to a painful tension, listened for the 
answer which to him meant life — meant death — for he 
could not — would not live without her. 

Emotions leaped like mad in the chaotic breast of 
la marquise^ but her features made no sign — the maj- 
esty of her calm beauty remained unruffled. 

After a pause she answered, with almost a plaintive 
wail : I can never marry again. The ends of justice 
are immutable ; are not the sins of the fathers visited 
on the children to the third and fourth generation ? 
And having desecrated the marriage tie, how can I 
hope for happiness in that relation? But, listen to 
me, should you return from the war even a moderately 
upright man, my friendship, which you have just re- 
fused, will again be at your disposal. My door always 
open for you, and mutually, we may enjoy much 
pleasant companionship; for, I do believe, that be- 
tween men and women an affectionate regard may exist, 
disconnected from what is called love, with its fevered 
unrest.!’ 

It is my turn now to present a petition.” Her 
voice lowered until it was almost a whisper. Fate 
seems to have in some inextricable way entangled our 
two lives, let it not be to the detriment of either. Do 
as I bid you ; leave Paris with your regiment, and so 
conduct yourself in the stern ordeal which lies before 
you that I may be proud of my friend, for as such I 
will not resign you.” Wistfully, her brilliant eyes 
looked into his — there was magic in them. 

“ I will do as you wish,” he answered. “ My life is 


Venus Victrix. 


189 


in your hands. But, mark me, if you deceive me, 
and I return to find that you have played me false, 
and wedded to whomsoever it may be, I will kill you 
and him.” 

“Agreed,” she replied. Her sweet voice was firm, 
but there was a sad cadence, as emitted from a broken 
lute when its chords are swept by a master hand. 
“ My word is passed ; femme sole you leave me and 
femme sole you will find me, your friend. Say good- 
bye to me now, and when your regiment is leaving 
Paris, in my carriage I will be looking on.” 

The hand she laid into his was caught into a linger- 
ing clasp. Hungrily his eyes wandered over her face. 

“As I am to be your friend,” said he, hesitatingly, 
“ I may kiss — ^your cheek.” His swarthy face stooped 
over her. La marquise looked up. Suddenly catch- 
ing her in his arms, he pressed his lips to hers. It 
was only for a moment, but a thrill rushed through 
his every nerve and fiber. As suddenly he released 
her, his face glowing with triumph. His voice was 
now no longer pleading, it had changed to a ring of 
victory. “I have kissed you,” he said. “You are 
mine ! and I swear you never shall have cause to blush 
for me. And when I meet you again, I will be able 
to look into your proud face witliput shame.” Then 
he was gone. 

A troubled, scared look passed over the features of 
la marquise, to be succeeded by a rush of crimson. 
Almost a sob escaped her. “ Why am T so punished,” 
she said, bitterly, “ that I should love this reprobate ? 
Oh, my God, help me ! ” 


190 


^ome Little of the Angel Still Left. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

A TALISMAN. 

“ ’T would soothe to take one lingering view, 

And bless thee in my last adieu ; 

Yet wish I not those eyes to weep 
For him that wanders o’er the deep, 

His home, his hope, his youth are gone. 

Yet still he loves and loves but one.” 

AVhen Miss Brown made lier appearance to accom- 
pany madame la marquise “ to see the English ofiV’ she 
was pale and still tearful. 

The sudden and violent transition manifested in the 
character of this young woman would, in the olden 
times, have been looked upon as the fore-runner of 
doom, and predicted for her a speedy demise. 

La marquise looked at her in compassion and said : 
‘‘ Poor dear, men are not at all worth the trouble they 
occasion — I think we should he happier in a world 
where there was not one of them.” 

“ I don’t think that,” replied Miss Brown, with 
difficulty keeping hack a sniffie. To save her life, she 
could not affect indifference, remembering how pleas- 
ant had been the sittings in the numerous public 
gardens with Monsieur Felix. The grass seemed 
greener, the flowers sweeter, and the sky above more 
blue for his presence. 

La marquise., fearing that Miss Brown was suffering 


A Talisman. 


191 


herself to become too agitated to meet the public eye, 
hastened to say : ‘‘ Come, dear, we must not keep 
monsieur le ministre waiting. He is going with us to 
witness our allies depart.” 

Gallantly the English looked when they drew into 
line and gave their hearty English cheer, their adieu 
to Paris, which had opened wide its gates and been 
hospitable to them. 

Captain ITeville, after directing toward la marquise. 
one quick, eager glance, looked at her no more, as if 
to show to her that the rule he had determined upon 
for self-government was inaugurated. 

A good looking man has great opportunities for 
appearing well clad in the showy uniform of the Eng- 
lish cavalry. 

Monsieur le ministre did not like a bone in Captain 
^^eville’s body, nor a drop of blood in his veins, yet, 
even he, was struck with admiration of the soldierly 
figure, who with difficulty controlled the magnificent 
thoroughbred he was riding. 

Gabrielle, when seen from a distance, the tout 
ensemble of yonder fellow is good.” 

“ Handsome is as handsome does,” was the uncom- 
promising answer. 

Then, the Englishman,” returned le ministre, need 
not set up for a beauty, unless he is maligned as man 
never was before.” 

Suppose we go,” said madame la marquise, the 
allies are commencing to move.” And as their car- 
riage turned for the homeward drive, the restive horse 
of Captain Heville broke quite away — running — 
wheeling — curv^eting in a very disorderly manner. 


192 Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

“ The brute will get into the carriage,” said le 
yninistre, waving otf the excited cavalry-horse with a 
mouse-colored kid glove. 

A helt-ribhon fluttered in the breeze and rested on 
the hilt of the rider’s sword. 

Le ministre glanced suspiciously at la marquise^ but 
felt reassured, seeing the lady, perfectly unconscious 
of any loss of her adornments, intently surveying a 
fleecy cloud leisurely pursuing its way across the blue 


The Vice-Admiral. 


193 


CHAPTEK XXYI. 

OLD MAT MAKES THE ACQUAINTANCE OP THE VICE-AD- 
MIRAL. 

“ for I will ease my heart, 

Although it he with hazard to my head.” 

At early dawn, on the 14th September, the allied 
fleet, almost four hundred vessels, anchored in the 
Black Sea, oft' the Crimea. 

The busy French, always in the van, were the first 
to establish a foothold on the peninsular. 

In a small boat, fifteen or sixteen Frenchmen rowed 
to the shore, and, leaping out on Muscovite soil, raised 
a flag-staft*, and, running up their tri-color, saluted it 
with Vive la France T 

Such was their activity, in twenty minutes six 
thousand Frenchmen were landed. And by noon, 
the barren beach teemed with life. Twenty-seven 
thousand English, twenty-five thousand French, and 
eight thousand Turks were occupying the Czar’s 
country. 

As may he supposed, there was a scene of great 
confusion, and, to make matters worse, a violent storm 
of wind and rain gave them an enemy’s welcome. 

The few tents which were, with difilculty, erected, 
only furnished examples of the fleeting and fleeing 
nature of human comforts in this transitory life. 

At a blast from Boreas a tent would start off in a 
17 


194 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

run, dragging its occupants, clinging to ropes and doing 
their utmost to “stop her” through a liquefaction of 
sandy loam, only in the end to lose hope and lent sim- 
ultaneously, as a mighty “nor’ wester,” rushing under 
the canvas and wrenching it loose bore it away in 
triumph — its rightful- owners, gazing at it skurrying 
away in the distance, collapsed, utterly wretched. 

Others, of these weather-screens, yielded without 
an effort at self-defense, and surrendered so suddenly 
to counter-currents of the frisky gale as to almost 
smother the inmates. 

As to he expeeted, on such a heart-burning occasion, 
a great deal was said, and remarks that were not 
pious, found free expression. Indeed, “our army in 
Flanders” made not more unstinted use of strong 
language. Of course there were some persons of a 
religious temperament who suffered in silence, but 
they were not numerous, although deserving of the 
highest praise. 

Free from the wearing effects of dissipation. Cap- 
tain Seville had landed on the Crimea in fine health, 
an active and efficient officer. 

Faithful to his promise of reform, he had success- 
fully overcome all temptations. And there is no 
greater help for keeping out of mischief than to have 
somebody take care of — to rescue from danger. 

For the first days of the voyage Captain Neville 
had his hands full in extricating Mr. Matthew Wins- 
dall from the situations of difficulties and perils into 
which that worthy persistently involved himself. 

. Mr. Winsdall did not have a lazy bone in his body, 
and fortunately — or unfortunately — escaped sea-sick- 


The Vice-Admiral, 


195 


ness; therefore, it was in his power to lend himself to 
the task of correcting such errors of judgment or 
management as came under his observation. 

First, his ire was excited by some indiscretion in the 
cookery. Immediately he explored the ship and found 
the cook’s galley and entered a complaint in person to 
the officiating head of that branch of the service. 

For inscrutable reasons it has not pleased Provi- 
dence to imbue cooks with sweetness of temper. Few 
there he unaware of this dispensation, and the wise, 
respecting privilege,” let them alone. 

But it is not given to every one to he wise at all 
times, and no warning voice deterred Mr. Winsdall 
from bearding the lion in his den. The answer he got 
was not a pleasant one, though, to he sure, it was one 
that had been in frequent use with himself toward his 
subordinates — hut “ sauce for the goose is not sauce for 
the gander” — and the recent trainer became enraged 
and so warlike, that only abject submission saved the 
offender from such bodily injuries as could he inflicted 
with a frying-pan, the weapon with which he was 
threatened. 

The rigid discipline on a man-of-war has at its com- 
mand the eyes of Argus and the hands of Briareus. 
So the indignant Mr. Winsdall was speedily arraigned 
for the misdemeanor. But Captain Neville, bringing 
his influence arbitrarily to hear, old Mat got off* scot- 
free, and so little intimidated that he remarked quite 
audibly : 

If this ’ere is your way of returnin’ thanks, I am 
not agoin’ to pester myself no more. Not if them 
blawsted cooks p’isons every hindividual man aboard 


196 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

this wessel with their willainous messes, or chokes 
them to death on the duff that is tough in plenty to 
make into cannon balls. I jess aint.” 

True, to this resolve, he abandoned the chefs du 
cuisine to their own wickedness. But he never could 
bring himself to approve of their efforts ; and the edi- 
bles, when placed before him, he eyed sharply, turned 
over, and otherwise tested their merits in a manner 
which rendered him highly unpopular among those 
with whom he ate. 

However, he found other matters seeming to him 
faulty in their arrangements ; these he endeavored to 
reform and failed, and got into trouble, to he relieved 
through the active efforts of Captain Heville. This 
occurred so often that the patron became normally 
oppressed with an anxious, uneasy feeling whenever 
Mr. Winsdall was out of his sight. 

I would not like old Mat to get hurt,’’ he ex- 
plained to the sympathizing Lieutenant Raymond. 
It seemed, though, as if Mr. Winsdall’s destiny was 
determined to lead him to that end. 

The flag flying from the fore-top-gallant masthead 
of the ship indicated that there was on board a vice- 
admiral. But the great man was rarely seen by other 
eyes than those belonging to the higher officers. The 
beauty of one flne afternoon, however, tempted him 
from his retreat, and with the stately air of a man 
controlling the actions of a good many others, he ap- 
proached the bulwarks and his august gaze wandered 
over the watery expanse. 

In disgust, Mr. Winsdall had ceased from all interfer- 
ence with concerns of the ship, consoling himself tliat 


The Vice-Admiral. 


197 


the connection was only temporary, and that the time 
would come when, shaking the dust from his feet, he 
could sever the galling tie. Then, if a rude blessing 
could devote to destruction this combination of wood, 
iron, copper, cordage and canvass, he would be the 
man to fulminate it. But, as yet, nothing had hap- 
pened to dampen his deep interest in the coming hos- 
tilities, and knowing the value of information derived 
from first hands, he stepped up to the vice-admiral 
and began asking questions as to the mode which 
would be adopted in ‘‘fightin’ the Ruusians,” and was 
prc'paring to favor the high ofilcer with his own views 
when that dignitary, after casting a fiery look at him, 
haughtily demanded 

“ Whose man are you ? ” 

I am no man’s man. My master is in heaven,” 
answered old Mat, putting his hands in his pockets 
and glaring defiance. 

The high-officer paled with rage, and fairly hissed : 

“ Do you know to whom you are speaking? ” 

Mr. Winsdall knew perfectly well, but he had been 
rubbed the wrong way and the sparks were flying, and 
he answered : 

“ I do n’t know for certin’ that you ’ave been inter- 
dooced to me, I jess do n’t. But, it is war-times an’ 
I do n’t keer to carry my ’ead too ’igh, an’ am willin’ 
to parse a civil word with aniost any body. But, in 
coose you carn’t ’ope to he hintermate with me.” 

Lieutenant Raymond, who chanced to be up in the 
^‘lookout” for 'a quiet smoke, and seeing and hearing 
to this point, clambered down in great haste, and 
darted about in various directions until he found Cap- 


198 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left, 

tain IS'eville. “ You had better liiuTy, Harry,” said 
he, “old Mat is holding forth on deck — he’s got the 
vice-admiral in tow, and things look squally.” 

By dint of hard scrambling. Captain Neville arrived 
in time not to lose any of the following delectable 
speech delivered by Mr. Winsdall : 

“I’ll lay you a glarss of ’arf an’ ’arf, I jess will, 
that when the ball hopens an’ the jig gets lively I will 
be as near to the front as you or any bother man — if 
I do n’t wear no brass on my ’at, nor likewise on my 
clothin’ — I am takin’ it for granted that you can bear 
the smell of burnt gunpowder, which it ain’t every 
swell that can, it jess ain’t; for, when the bullets be- 
gin to rattle back they drop an’ send a haid-de-camp 
with borders for the henemy to be disloged. It ’s a 
side of bacon to a sour apple that the best six bout of 
every eleven will do that wery way. You mark my 
prediction.” 

Captain Neville’s arrival was opportune ; an other 
instant would have been too late. Old Mat would, in 
his unhappy person, have illustrated that metempsy- 
chosis is possible even 'prior mortem — for a space, of 
time at least he would have been transformed into a 
“spread-eagle” — keel-hauling having gone out of 
fashion. 

Never previously had Captain Neville shown such 
versatility of talent — he cajoled — he argued — he en- 
treated — he demanded, and when failure became 
imminent he put the aftiiir on personal grounds; 
claiming that Matthew Winsdall was in his private 
employ and under his protection, and, whosoever, 
caused a finger to be laid on him, save in the way 


The Vice-Admiral. 


199 


of kindness, he would kill — if shot or steel could do 
it — and his father, Sir John, would defend the meas- 
ure in the high Court of Parliament, with the British 
eye looking on, and the British heart heating with 
sympathy. The man was a free-born citizen-subject, 
and not amenable to naval or military jurisdiction for 
the out-spoken expression of his honest, honorable, 
and patriotic opinions — even were they addressed to a 
subject of such exalted rank as a vice-admiral.'*^ 

After this oration there was, of course, an answer- 
ing speech of a very anti-yielding nature. 

Captain ITeville’s remarks then became bitter. The 
vice-admiral’s warm — hot. Sarcastic retorts came 
freely to the use of both. The vice-admiral called 
Captain Neville mutinous. Captain Neville called the 
vice-admiral insolent. The issue promised to he very 
unpleasant. 

Lieutenant Raymond, who had taken alarm at the 
probable consequences, pounced upon Colonel Clav- 
ering and brought him up to the scene in a half-run. 

Gentlemen ! gentlemen ! ” he implored, with up- 
lifted hands. “Be forehearing and accommodate mat- 
ters. Reflect, how injurious to Her Majesty’s service 
is disagreement between officers ! ” Many other sim- 
ilar expressions followed in a not altogether connected 
flow of eloquence. Lieutenant Raymond standing be- 
hind his colonel’s hack, prompted in a whisper, at 
every pause for a word. 

“Very well,” at length said the great dignitary, 
secretly pleased for the affair to stop there. (He had 
allowed himself to give way to anger and to bluster 
in public like an ordinary mortal, and it might not 


200 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

meet approval at the war office.) ‘‘ In future the man 
must keep below, out of my sight. I can not consent 
to be annoyed with either a civilian or an amateur 
soldier.’’ 

“Jess see ’ere,” observed Mr. Winsdall, “if the idee 
is to keep me below, down into the bowels of this ’ere 
bloomin’ wessel durin’ the remainder of the vyage, I 
’ad ruther be chucked overboard at once’t.” 

By this time the officers had come to a good under- 
standing — the comical side of the picture coming into 
view — and the vice-admiral, with a scarce suppressed 
smile, gave a gracious permission for “ Captain ^e- 
ville’s attache ” to air himself in the “ captain’s gig,” 
swinging at its davits. 

Captain Seville, thinking it only proper to admin- 
ister a reproof to old Mat, as a sort of apology to the 
high officer whose dignity had been insulted, and who 
was still within ear-shot, said : “ Winsdall, it was very 
wrong of you to speak disrespectfully to the vice- 
admiral.” 

“ The wise-hadmiral ’adn’t orter been sarcy then,” 
promptly returned Mr. Winsdall. “ I don’t know 
nuthin’ about no gag law, I jess don’t. I am goin’ to 
talk jess when I particular please, an’ them that don’t 
like it can lump it. Hot talk ! I will talk ! As long as 
I have life I will talk. I’ll blow my horn, if I don’t 
sell a fish ! ” 

He scudded over into the gig with extreme satis- 
faction. 

“ This is the comfortablest place I ’ve struck since I 
left shore. Let yourself over. Mister ’Arry, for a 
smoke.” 


The Vice-Admiral. 


201 


The invitation being accepted, both men were soon 
employed in manufacturing immense clouds of smoke 
which, in thoughtful silence, they watched eddying 
above their heads — floating away — finally absorbed in 
the atmosphere. 

“Mister ’Arry,” inquired old Mat, after a long 
pause, “ ave you ever took notice to ’ow many on- 
pleasant circumstances there is in this world, an’ no 
great many of the other sort? Though, to be sure, 
when you ’ave a good ’orse an’ you get ’im through ’is 
trainin’, sound hup to ’is race, an’ ’e wins in good 
time oyer a good field, a man do feel like he was in 
’eaven. 

“But there is a sight of wexation — I never could 
’ave stood all I’ve gone through if I hadn't been a 
Christian." 

“A what?” inquired Captain Neville. 

“I wouldn’t be a hinsultin’ people without cause. 
Mister ’Arry,” said old Mat, in a dudgeon. “ I never 
/ ’aye made it a p’int to be always talkin’ about my re- 
ligion an’ throwin’ it at peoples’ ’eads. But I call my- 
self a religious man, I jess do ; an’ if any reliable 
party wants an excitin’ time let ’im say I aint, that’s 
all I ’ve got to arsk. 

“ Ever since I was one an’ twenty years of hage — I 
was an onresponsible hinfant hup to that time — I ’ave 
never let one single year go by without attendin’ 
church — atween race meetings’, when I was not busy 
with the ’orses.” 

“ What church do you attend ?” inquired Captain 
Neville, gravely. 


202 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

Regulation church, in coorse. I do n’t say, 
though, there aint some wery wcll-meanin’ persons 
among the dissenters. But when it comes to a church 
for the savin’ of my soul, I want a first-class article — 
an’ the Church of Hingland is that.” 


A Bivouac, 


203 


CHAPTER XXYIL 

A BIVOUAC. 

“ It is a rough night.” 

Under the most favoring conditions Mr. Winsdall 
would never have constituted that desideratum, an 
amiable man. He had loved Don Juan with no com- 
mon love, and his idol had met defeat and the grave. 
Memory would not let the sickening story die. 

The sunbeams glittering on the ocean but mirrored 
to his morbid mind the superb proportions of the dead 
horse ; and in sleep he would hear Don Juan’s loving 
whinny and feel the soft poke of his nose inside his 
linsey waistcoat; — with .a groan he would wake and 
wipe away the hot tears. 

Perhaps it was in gladness that his feet were again 
on solid earth ; or, perhaps, the wind and rain acted 
as a counter-irritant to his morose and wretched spir- 
its ; at any rate, a most serviceable and willing abetter 
he became to Captain Xeville, in that officer’s strenu- 
ous efforts to effect some order in the disorderly and 
uncomfortable English camp 

Like giant birds, sent by some mysterious friendly 
power, to minister to their countrymen in their dis- 
tress, they fluttered about here, there, and every- 
where, to lend an assisting hand or to give a word of 
good cheer. 


204 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

Apparently from the clouds they procured a cart 
which, inverted, formed a shelter for Lord liaglan, 
and, old Mat poked about until he found a plank that 
made a bed for Colonel Clavering, in whose aching 
limbs lurked a low fever. 

‘‘i^ow,” said Captain IN’eville, with pardonable pride 
in the exceptional excellence of his colonel’s accom- 
modations, must get him a cup of something 
warm. I gave Eaymond a small package of cofiee to 
take care of — but I don’t see him.” 

‘‘Yes, you do,” remarked that lieutenant, who had 
not been observed, sitting as he was cross-legged on 
a seat of mud, which, he said, was “almost soft as 
eider-down.” 

“Where is that parcel of coflee?” 

“ ‘ In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.’ I regret 
it, Harry, hut that’s about the size of it, and induct- 
ively you are the cause of the misfortune; as that 
same act of yours, in making provision for the future, 
suggested the propriety of some forethought for my- 
self. It is always well to he provided with decent 
clothing, suitable for parties and Christmas occasions ; 
so I put up a dress-suit with your coffee, and confined 
clothes and coffee in a nose-hag, which I took the 
greatest possible care of ; in fact, I sat upon it until the 
yawl struck beach, then in the hurry I was in to jump 
ashore and huzza for England with the lads, I forgot 
all about it until the yawl had turned about and got 
underway for another load. 

“ I shouted to the man at the tiller that all I had in 
life, or nearly all, was in that nose-hag, and for the 
love of heaven to bring it hack to me. 


A Bivouac. 


205 


“ But the wind, blowing as it was from cats-corners, 
kept him from hearing, and in leaning over trying to 
understand, he gave an unpremeditated jerk of his 
ropes that, and the uncommon high surf, capsized the 
boat. In an instant the oarsmen were floundering 
among the waves, and one by one went under, I yell- 
ing all the time for them to keep a bright look out for 
the nose-bag. However, I think not one of them did, 
for, quickly as they could, they rose to the surface and 
swam ashore. 

“I regret the loss most deeply, principally on the 
colonel’s account. But I have a felt hat at this mo- 
ment on my head, and you are perfectly welcome to 
it. I think I heard that old felt hats made excel- 
lent coliee. Ho, on reflection it was ale, and the poor 
colonel will not be able to get a warm drink.” 

Why not?” said Mr. Winsdall, coming to the fore, 
and handing out from his pocket a handful of browned 
coflee-berries — rubies and pearls would not have, at 
the time, been so acceptable. Scooping away some of 
the soft mud, and diverting some tent pins from their le- 
gitimate use — the rain having ceased — tliey succeeded 
ill lighting a small fire after great eftbrt, and con- 
cocted in a tin-cup something they called coffee. It 
was smoked, and thick with grounds, and sans sugar 
and sans milk ; but the warm beverage was delightful 
to the suffering colonel, who received it with thanks 
from the hands of Captain Neville. 

Notwithstanding the marked improvement in the 
character of this officer. Colonel Clavering, while he 
did not exactly shun him, was unmistakably ill-at- 
ease in his company. 


206 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

The truth being that in his loyal good old heart, 
with its exaggerated sense of honor, he felt himself 
to be in some degree a poacher — trespassing on the 
rights of another. 

Not that for a moment he considered Captain Neville 
an accepted suitor of madame la marquise^ but, as hav- 
ing established some rights of priority, some sort of a 
military claim with which it was not honorable to 
meddle even in desire. 

None but his Maker knew of the hopeless, despair- 
ing longing which distracted his breast. He despised 
himself for it, and called himself “an old fool” — but 
the infatuation would not flee. 

Bear up only a little longer, oh, most noble heart ! 
The refining process is almost over. Your small 
frailties are nearly extirpated, and well you know the 
teaching of your faith : 

“ There are they which came out of great tribula- 
tion, and having washed their robes, and made them 
white in the blood of the lamb.” 

“ Therefore are they before the throne of God, and 
serve him day and night in his temple ; and he that 
sitteth on the throne shall dwell among them.” 

“They shall hunger no more, neither thirst any 
more ; neither shall the sun light on them, nor any 
heat.” 

“ For the lamb, which is in the midst of the throne, 
shall feed them, and shall lead them unto livino- 

O 

fountains of water, and God shall wipe away all tears 
from their eyes.” 


All is Well, 


207 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

ALL IS WELL. 

“On fame’s eternal camping ground, 

Their silent tents are spread, 

And glory guards with solemn round, 

The bivouac of the dead.” 

Six days after the foot-hold obtained on the Crimea, 
the French, led by General Bosquet, crossed the Alma, 
and carried the heights on the right. 

Like squirrels they clammered up the steep accliv- 
ity, and skirmished in squads until they numbered 
sufficient to form into a body and advance to the at- 
tack, which they did with national rapidity and gal- 
lantry. The Russian cavalry, although supported by 
artillery, could not stop them — onward they pressed 
until they gained possession of the contested field. 

The English under Sir George Brown advanced 
toward the valley, and dashing across the stream 
charged the Russian redoubts. 

Under the exposure to which he had been subjected. 
Colonel Clavering’s indisposition had increased, and 
on the morning of this battle, was scarcely able to 
stand. 

Captain Xeville vainly entreated him not to par- 
ticipate in the fight. 

“ Remain in camp, dear colonel,” he said, you are 
not able to sit on your horse. Do not feel uneasy ; we 


208 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left, 

are Englishmen, and you will hear no bad account of 
your regiment.” 

Of late Colonel Clavering had been saying, ‘‘ Cap- 
tain Neville,” and somewhat formal in his kindness. 
To-day, the old kindly manner was hack, and he an- 
swered : 

‘^No, Harry, we who eat the Queen’s bread and 
wear her livery must fight her battles as long as there 
is life, even if we have to be strapped in the saddle. 
God bless you, Harry. Your conduct now is such as 
will cause your friends at home to rejoice. Persevere, 
there is nothing like doing right. Good-bye. Again, 
God bless you, and, Harry, think of me kindly.” 

The fire the English now encountered was so mur- 
derous that they paused — recoiled. Onwa_rd, my 

lads, onward ! ” shouted Colonel Clavering, erect in 
his saddle. The fire was too deadly. The men would 
not advance. Colonel Clavering seeing this waved his 
sword high, “ Follow me, lads!” rang out loud and 
clear, and with one hound of his horse he was under 
the leaden shower. A rifie-ball sped swift through 
the air and buried itself in his heart. Captain Neville 
caught the falling body. Here, Winsdall,” he said 
to old Mat, who was close up, ‘‘ convey the Colonel 
to the rear.” 

In our human life how inextricably woven are joys 
and sorrows, and how often oddly intertwined are the 
most pathetic of situations with the ludicrous. 

‘‘ I jess shaunt do it,” was the resolute answer. 
“ I ’ave come too long a distance to take part in this 
’ere to talk of droppin’ back now. But, most any 
of these other chaps will jest be glad to go. This 


All is Well 


209 


bloomin’ young man in particular,” be said, shaking 
with right good-will a youthful warrior, whom he 
grasped by the collar. I ’m blowed if ’e did n’t come 
a nigh knocking me clear hofi* my ’orse in ’is ’urry to 
drop a hind.” This young fellow was scarcely more 
than a boy, and not yet accustomed to seeing men 
shot down like ten-pins, and at first the sight of it had 
an unpleasant elfect upon him, and he was anxious to 
get behind some one while steadying his nerves, and in 
doing so he jostled against Mr. Winsdall, who promptly 
laid a staying hand and whacked him across the back 
with the fiat of his saber, calling him a “ cowardly 
loon.” 

‘‘ I ain’t no coward,” explained the young soldier— 
his feeling hurt at the reproach, and almost blubber- 
ing. “ I ain’t well — I eat some dried apples for break- 
fast and they was n’t cooked enough, and they are 
twisting my insides around like a cork-screw — Oh! 
oh ! — Do n’t 1 You hurt I ” he gasped as the blows 
got unbearably heavy. 

Backward — out of range — and tenderly, beyond all 
compare is the touch of soldiers in handling their 
fallen ofiicers — they carried Colonel Clavering. 

By this time the Duke of Cambridge had arrived to 
the support, and re-enforced the English advanced to 
the assault, and driving out the Kussians, took posses- 
sion of the works. . 

The report of the last gun had hardly died away 
when Captain isTeville hurriedly galloped back to see 
after Colonel Clavering. Outstretched, on the green 
grass, his face turned upward and beautiful in its great 
repose, lay the dead ofiicer. 

18 


210 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

A big lump got into Captain N^eville’s throat which 
he had difficulty in choking down. In memory, the 
grieved look his own misconduct had so often brought 
upon that white face — majestic now — came back and 
smote him to the heart. 

Lieutenant Raymond had also hurried back and, 
fondly as a son, he pressed the unresponsive hand, and 
sobbed as he caressed the fast-chilling face. Captain 
Seville could not do this — he could not touch Colonel 
Clavering now ; but he would die to restore him to 
life. 

‘‘ Let’s put him away, Ray, while there is time to do 
so,” he said, hoarsely. There is little more to tell. 

A soldier’s burial: Almost where he had. fallen. 
Almost before the din of deadly strife had subsided, 
with the air yet stiffing from the smoke of battle, and 
in momentary expectation of the bugle’s-call to pursue 
the enemy, they prepared a grave — his blood-stained 
uniform the only winding-sheet. His pulseless breast 
did not heed the rough clods as they fell over it, 
neither did the dead ears hear the parting volley — his 
comrades’ last farewell. 

The terminus of a good life is a grand finale. A 
triumphant adieu to suffering ! A glorious entrance 
into a joy that can not fade and will never satiate. 

The watch-word for that night was, “All’s well.” 
With good Colonel Clavering all was indeed well. 
With drums beating, colors fiying, and with all the 
honors of war he had exchanged into an army of a 
higher grade — into a corps which neither dispenses its 
commissions by patronage nor purchase, but bestows 
them free gifts for the pure in heart. 


Charge, Englishmen. 


211 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

CHARGE, ENGLISHMEN. 

“Cannon to right of them, cannon to left of them, 

Cannon in front of them, volleyed and thundered.” 

The exceeding brilliancy of a charge made by Eng- 
lishmen on the 25th of October, renders this a date 
ever to be proud of by England. 

Some redoubts in front of Balaklava, insufficiently 
garrisoned by Turkish troops, were attacked by the 
Muscovites, who advanced to the attack so rapidly 
and in such force as to drive the Turks out, leaving 
their cannons unspiked, which the Czar’s troops 
instantly seized, and, turning their own guns upon 
the fleeing Ottomen, cut them down fearfully. 

The Russian cavalry, which was now advanced with 
supporting artillery, being met intrepidly by the Scot’s 
Greys, retired. But it was only to fall back upon a 
sustaining army in position. 

Promotions are of slow growth in times of peace, 
but during active hostilities they occur with frightful 
rapidity. 

The regiment of the late Colonel Clavering was now 
commanded by Colonel Xeville, who, already, in this 
campaign had learned some salutary lessons, which 
years of ordinary life would not have taught equally 
well. 

The earthquake may reveal in a moment a mine of 


212 


■ Some Little of the Angel Still Lift, 

pure gold lying deep hid in the earth, which, per- 
chance, hut for the convulsion would never have been 
brought to light and use. 

Ilis boundless energy, hitherto wasted in a riotous 
life, had now a legitimate outlet. The exuberance of 
his temperament, which hitherto led him into the 
greatest excesses for purposes of amusement, now in- 
cited him to glorious deeds of valor. 

To him was delivered an order to ‘‘ charge the 
enemy.” 

“ What madness !” he exclaimed. ‘‘ The regiment 
would only be annihilated, without any advantage.” 

‘‘Am I to report,” asked the aid-de-camp,, “ that you 
refused to obey ?” 

“ You can report to your superior, sir,” replied 
Colonel Yeville, sternly, “ that I, with my latest breath, 
consider it an order for the massacre of my men with- 
out the equivalent of military necessity. But I am a 
soldier, and will obey. Go back where you came 
from !” 

“ Your ’ead is jess level. Mister ’Arry,” said Mr. 
Mathew Winsdall, in a grin. “ I ain’t been so ’appy 
for a long time. I jess do feel inwigerated.” 

For an instant. Colonel Seville’s eyes roved over his 
gallant regiment — the flower of the British army — no 
wonder his heart saddened at leading these men to 
death. But the order must be obeyed. 

Giving his head a backward toss — ^^liis face glowing 
with the light of battle, his eyes flashing, his teeth set 
— he thundered the words, “ Charge, Englishmen !” 

Instantly eight hundred English cavalrymen hurled 
themselves against the open mouths of thirty roaring 


213 


Charge^ Englishmen, 

cannons and a tempest of bullets from a posted army. 
Like grain before the sickle the men went down un- 
der that awful storm. 

A body of French Chasseurs (TAfrique^ at seeing the 
dreadful strait of their allies, made a dash and cap- 
tured the batteries. 

The main body of the English troops having now 
been advanced, the Russians retreated. 

From that immortal charge one hundred and nine- 
ty-eight Englishmen alone returned. 

Human nature has a proneness for hunting out 
scape-coats, and when the turbaned, bearded, and slip- 
pered believers in Allah were stigmatized as the cause 
of the disaster, the fury of Omah Pasha knew no 
bounds. He swore by every hair in the beard of the 
prophet, that it was an egregious and culpable mis- 
take to throw out a handful of troops — no matter of 
what religious propensities — without proper supports 
to garrison advanced out-posts. 

Colonel FTeville drew up under a tree and dis- 
mounted — his wounded horse, when relieved from the 
rider, dropped and began to roll and struggle in the 
agonies of death — he slowly passed his handkerchief 
over his eyes to free them from the blinding smoke 
and dust. Ho ball had touched his body, but his uni- 
form was riddled and hung in tatters. 

^‘Is Ray hurt? Where is Ray?” he asked, anx- 
iously. 

I am coming, Harry. Yes, I ’m hurt,” said the 
ex-lieutenant, now Captain Raymond, his musical voice 
only slightly out of tune, hobbling up a pie, the blood 
streaming. My bones are all safe, but the fleshy part 


214 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

of my left leg has gone whizzing away with a piece 
of canister, and I would like a little help to the near- 
est surgeon, to get some sticking-plaster.” 

‘‘I’ll jess ’ave to go into ’orsepital too, Mister ’Arry,” 
said old Mat, coming up, dragging himself feebly 
along, “an’ its pounds to shillin’s that I am no good 
no more.” 

Two litters conveyed the two wounded men to the 
field hospital. Captain Raymond’s wound being only 
a flesh one, he was promised a speedy recovery. 

Old Mat was wounded in all parts of his body ; but 
a musket ball in the chest was the trouble. “A dan- 
gerous wound, requiring the most careful attention,” 
pronounced the surgeon. 

“ I must send you to Scutari, Winsdall, where you 
can be taken better care of,” said Colonel Seville, 
kindly. 

Mathew Winsdall sighed heavily, and after a pause 
answered : 

“I am fond of you. Mister ’Arry, an’ there aint 
much livin’ now as I do keer for — though, to be sure, 
there is the own brother to Don ; but, ’e ’s young yet, 
an’ haccidents oftener ’appen to good ones than the 
other sort that jess aint worth two shillin’s for a race 
’orse. I think well of Jacob, too, but I aint satisfied, 
Mister ’Arry, to be sent to Squitary, an’ if it could be 
fixed any ways for me to stop somewheres near you, I 
wouldn’t mind no ill conwenience, an’ wouldn’t be no 
trouble, leastways not for long, bein’ its my opinion. 
I’m done for; an’. Mister ’Arry, I would like my heys 
to look on you when they are shuttin’ for the larst 


215 


Charge^ Englishmen. 

time, I jess would. An’ if I ’ad my wruthers, it 
would be in Hinglan’.” 

Don’t be getting low down, Winsdall; you’ll 
round to, and we’ll get back to England together 
yet,” said Colonel ^Teville, encouragingly. 

‘‘I aint got no great ’opes, Mister ’ Arry, I jess aint. 
There’s no recall when the drum taps, an’ I am jess 
thinkin, that’s what ’as ’appened to me. ’ Owsomever, 
not to throw a chaunce away, it might be as well for 
me to go to Squitary. 


216 


tiome Little of the Angel Still Left. 


CHAPTER XXX. 

THE BEAUTIFUL WHITE SYMBOL. . 

“ I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.” 

The allies had asked and obtained from the Rus- 
sians an armistice of three hours for the mutual work 
of burying the dead, and scarcely had the beautiful 
white symbol appeared before the face of the country 
was covered with unarmed men. 

The English are forever backward and awkw^ard 
with strangers — utterly deficient in the hail-fellow- 
well-met trait. But ^ not so the French; they imme- 
diately fraternized with the Czar’s troops ; exchang- 
ing courteous salutations, small civilities, and pleasant 
badinage. 

Another mark of nationality also displayed itself. 
The English are frequently at fault about suitable 
toilets. But their lively neighbors across the Channel 
are never without the resources of a gala dress, sto\ved 
away, no body knows how, no body knows where, but 
always produceable, on occasion — and on this occa- 
sion they disported themselves in all the glory and 
friskiness of new uniforms. 

The English, not possessing the unselfish generosity, 
which overlooks self, and rejoices in the advantages 
of others, were, it must be admitted, envious and ill- 
humored. But why should they have been so, for did 
not their clothing, patched — and more often needed to 


The Beautiful White Symbol. 


217 


be patched — and covered with grime and smoke tell 
more eloquently than words- of the various battles in 
which they had taken a gallant part ? And the very 
traces of the cumulative soils gathered from many a 
ditferent camp told a true tale of privations borne with 
patient bravery. 

And while the French, as soldiers, challenge the ad- 
miration of the world; the dash, precision, and ardor 
of their charges under the most appalling fire is truly 
sublime, and the quickness of their movements act- 
ually seem to enable them to dodge the shots, shells, 
and bullets whistling all around them. At the word 
of command, raising their war-cry, they will plunge 
under the most intensely galling fire, cheerily as if dart- 
ing forward to a merry-making. The English fight 
differently. They have no insane idea that the giving 
and taking of hard blows constitute the highest happi- 
ness — there are other pastimes they prefer — yet they 
can, and will, and have fought long and well. In fact, 
they are as slow to quit a fight as deliberate to go 
into it. 

And, in the Peninsular war they labored under the 
disadvantage of having for their most superior officers, 
men not adequate to the occasion — good men, gentle- 
men, as undoubtedly they were. But they had grown 
old playing war during the slumberous times of a forty 
years’ peace, and at a moment’s notice could not trans- 
form the make-believe into effective reality, and too 
late they learned that field-day reviews were not one 
and the same thing as bloody battles. 

During a short lull in the active hostilities Colonel 


19 


218 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

^Teville hurried to Scutari having heard that old Mat 
was not doing well. 

A pang, sharp as a physical hurt, smote him when 
he saw how low and feeble was the once burly frame 
of Mathew Winsdall. 

The wound-fever had careered uncontrolled through 
his veins 'like red-hot lava ; and in delirium he was 
back again on the race-course with Don Juan, and 
again he saw the noble horse make the death plunge — 
and, again, and again, he lived over the agony. 

The fever had now almost run it’s course, and con- 
fident of it’s victim, paused before the finish. 

It was then that Captain Neville arrived. 

A glad light came into his dulled eyes as old Mat 
murmured, “I am glad to see you. Mister ’Arry, I 
jess am.” 

Captain Neville gently pressed the emaciated hand 
that was with difficulty pushed toward him. 

Have you been well taken care of, Winsdall, and 
had every thing you wanted ? ” 

Oh ! yes. Mister ’Arry, I ’ave no complaints to 
make, I jess ain’t. But it is not much that no body 
can do for you when you are sabred hup an’ shot to 
pieces like I am. An’ layin’ ’ere so loiig, an’ tortered 
as I ’ave been, sometimes it ’as 'seemed to me that I 
ain’t been no good man. An’ yet, I never throwed 
hoff a race in my life. No body ever arsked me to — 
they knowed better ! An’ if ever any of my ’ands 
needed correctin’ and didn’t get it — I don’t know 
when it was.” 

“I wouldn’t talk about all that now, Winsdall. 


The Beautiful White Symbol. 219 

You must cheer up if you want to get back to En- 
gland.” 

I jess don’t want to get back there now, Mister 
’Arry, there ain’t nuthin’ to get back there for. The 
first news I got arter gettin’ ’ere was a letter wrote by 
Jacob, tellin’ as ’ow the own brother to Don ’ad 
crippled ’isself for good playin’ in ’is paddock. It 
was that news that fetched the fever on so bad.” 

“ You ought not to have fretted about that, Wins- 
dall ; there are other things worth living for than 
race-horses. Suppose, now, that you were to have a 
wife and children.” / 

‘‘You jess ’ush. Mister ’Arry, with your chaffin’. 
There never was any thing of that sort for me. In 
early life I got set against female-wimin, hall along of 
that step-mother of mine, I dare say, for, when she 
was not warmin’ my jacket with an apple-sprout — I 
ain’t never keered much about apples since — she was 
doin’ pretty nigh as bad, clankin’ at me with her 
tongue. An’ then I got so took hup with ’orses that 
I couldn’t think about nuthin’ else than trainin’ them 
an’ runnin’ them. I took to fightin’ jess for an hoffi 
chaunce — I don’t keer nothin’ about it for a business. 
An’ sayin’ I was over hall this, an’ ’ome again, an’, 
overcomin’ my prejudices, I was j’ined to a wife, as 
like as not, the first thing I would do to signalize the 
occasion would he to send ’er around a couple of 
miles in clothes, an’ if the performance was not satis- 
factory, I doubt if I would ’ave self-control enough 
not to belt ’er with a martingale — an’ that would 
make a fuss in the famhly right at once’t. Yo, at my 
time of life. Mister ’Arry, a man ain’t ’andy at lamin’ 


220 Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

new trades. So it is jess as well for me to drop lioff, 
it jess is.” 

This lengthy talk brought back the lurking fever. 
There came a few disjointed sentences, then the last 
delusion. “ ’Old ’ard, Ed’ard ! ” he shouted. Oh ! 
oh ! oh ! ’e’s down.” There were a few gasps, tlien 
came the last shiver. Old Mat was dead. 


England^ Forever! 


221 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

ENGLAND, FOREVER ! 

“ They Bang of love, and not of fame, 

Forgot was Britain’s glory ; 

Each heart recalled a different name. 

But all sang ‘Annie Laurie.’ ” 

In solemn council the war powers had decided to 
put forth all their strength in a mighty struggle for 
Sebastopol. 

The united lines of the Russian defenses were to he 
assailed by the united fury of the allies. Every man 
was to assist in the assault. 

The soldiers had faced death so often and familiar- 
ized with his grim presence had ceased to fear him. 
And, perhaps at heart, no human being is exempt 
from a tincture of predestinarianism which, in differ- 
ent minds assumes characteristic modifications. Some, 
with a gloomy feeling that “what is to he will be,” 
recognize the inutility of making a struggle against 
fate. Others, less pessimistic, cheerfully claim that 
“the Lord made us and he’ll take care of us,” will 
rush into any dangers blithely. 

Under the improved condition of the commissariat 
department the soldiers were enabled to partake of a 
plentiful supper with appetites unabated by fears for 
to-morrow, then they united in singing Annie Laurie 
before separating to seek their repose. Alas ! how many 


222 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

of them were so soon to sleep and, in this world, 
awaken nevermore. 

Simultaneous with the first gleam of the morning’s 
light the terrific roar of six hundred French and two 
hundred. English guns hurst through the frightened 
air, and with their mighty thunders sustained the 
crash of an almost unbroken peal. 

All known projectiles of every description were 
rained over and against the entire line of the doomed 
Russian defenses, wrapping them in a sheet of flame. 

Round shots — grim messengers — rushed through 
the ether with the dull thud of their heavy booming 
to fulfill their mission to destroy. 

Shells, swift-hurled from the bastions, whistled and 
screamed with the warning, wailing dirge of their 
wild weird music, as they sped onward to their fateful 
work. 

And through the dense smoke of the war-clouds, 
which hung in heavy masses enveloping the Musco- 
vite positions in almost midnight darkness, dashed the 
fiery rockets like blazing comets, followed by their 
long, lurid trains. 

Oh ! it was too fearful — too like the work of relent- 
less demons! Yet, all this was not enough. Toward 
eight o’clock had come the crash, as if heaven and 
earth had come together, of one hundred kilogramms 
of powder upon the Central Bastion, and fifteen hun- 
dred kilogrammes against the face of the great Malak- 
hofi:‘ — mining chambers exploded by the French 
engineers. 

Under the fury of the storm stone walls went down 
as if beaten to earth by resistless hammers in the 


England, Forever! 223 

hands of Titans. Embrasures crumbled. The abattis 
showed great broad roads burnt through it. i^’othing 
prepared by human hands could withstand this awful 
storm which unceasingly, remorselessly continued 
till noon — then the mortars and cannons, hot and tired, 
closed their savage jaws, and a silence as if of death 
ensued. 

This calm was broken by the trumpets and drums 
tumultuously sounding, “Charge!” 

“ Vive V France !” shouted thirty thousand French- 
men, hurling themselves against the Malakhoff. 

The valor and impetuosity of their movements de- 
fies description ; in thirty minutes their tri-color 
fioated over that stronghold — the key of the Eussian 
defenses — and which had so long stood like a lion be- 
tween Sebastopol and the invaders, and like a lion at 
l)ay had made a grand struggle. The immense bodies 
of reserves hidden in its lair had struck many a heavy 
blow against the enemy. 

Four rockets were now sent up to signal the En- 
glish to commence their attack upon the Great Eedan, 
as had been agreed upon. And at the word of com- 
mand they emerged from their trenches and rushed 
for the charge. 

But, alas ! the open two hundred yards between 
their approaches and the enemy’s lines was literally 
a slaughter field. 

Of the first body of stormers, one-third went down 
in an instant under the galling fire But, re-enforced 
quickly, they pressed on — passed the abattis, now so 
rent and torn as not to ofier any serious impediment. 


224 Some Little of the Angel Still Left, 

— but whole companies were blotted out under that 
pitiless shower of grape. 

Decimated, they reached the ditch, deep full fifteen 
feet, and with only a few ladders to help them across — 
nearly all they had started with lay under the dead, 
so thick all along that dreadful space. And, woe! 
woe I the few they had were found to be too short ; 
and that merciless metallic down-pour left no time for 
deliberation. Yet, encouraged by the example of 
their ofiicers, the men plunged boldly down and 
scrambled up on the other side and gained the para- 
pet. But, sheltered behind their breast-works, the 
Russians assailed them with such furious volleys of 
musketry — to be compared to nothing save the angry 
dash of the ocean’s unfettered waves — that they fell 
back, refusing to advance. 

In vain the ofiicers raved at them — coaxed anR en- 
treated them to form and charge the breast-works. 

But a mortal terror had seized the men and dumbly 
they were shot down without resistance. 

“Are you men, or dogs?” shouted Colonel Neville, 
trying vigorously to stir them into life. 

Insensate stones could as well have been incited to 
deeds of valor. 

A moral night-mare held them in its relentless 
clutches — they had no power to shake it off! The 
bravest men, at intervals, fall under the baneful influ- 
ence of this nameless malady, distinct, as it is, from 
cowardice. (For, when driven to a wall, no man 
makes a more desperate fight than the true coward.) 
The world’s greatest heroes, including Charles Y and 


England, Forever ! 225 

iienry of ITavarre and Peter I, of Russia, had their 
moments de jpenr. 

“Beggars! hounds! caitiffs!” were the epithets 
Colonel R’eville was dealing out with revengeful blows. 
In one hand he held a cocked revolver, while the 
other grasped a drawn saber. A mammoth private, 
trying to crouch behind some stones, fell under his 
notice. “Oh, you villain!” he cried, bringing down 
the heavy pistol against the man’s head. A beseech- 
ing look was the only response. There was no pity 
in the angry, excited officer. Again the pistol was 
upraised. “Stop, ISTeville!” said Captain Raymond, 
grasping the arm before the pistol could again descend 
on the bleeding head. “The re-call has sounded. 
Let ’s try to get as many of these men back to the 
cover of the trenches as we can.” 

Keep off, Ray. I am as mad as the devil ! Look 
over yonder! See what the French have done !” said 
he, pointing to the tri-color floating over the Malak- 
hoft‘, “ while our men are behaving like vermin.” 

“Yes, true enough,” answered Captain Raymond, 
serenely, “they have had some luck over there. But 
glance your eye toward the Central Bastion, where 
they are not having such a jolly good time. As I 
live, there is a disorderly retreat ! ” 

“By G — , I’ll help them ! ” roared the half-frenzied 
officer, who, merely taking time to shake his weaponed 
flsts at the English troops, rushed off in the direction 
of the line of confusedly struggling French. 

Captain Raymond’s dissatisfied gaze followed him 
for a moment. “It’s a pity,” he murmured, “that 
Harry is so impetuous,” but thinking of the business 


226 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

lie had in hand, said cheerfully, in his dulcet tones: 
‘‘Come, my men, hadn’t we better get back to sup- 
per? Kite along; I’ll stay behind between you and 
the wolves.” 

While the English were having these reverses, 
the French had their hands full at the Central 
Bastion. 

When the,signal light shot up, avant!’^ shouted 
General de Salles. His column rushed forward scarcely 
impeded a moment by the ditch. The portable 
bridges, constructed for the purpose, were thrown, and 
the soldiers dashed over and reached the parapet, when 
they were met by a leaden torrent so terrific that the 
French hesitated — from where they stood they could 
see the Russians shoveling shot into their guns with 
spades. 

“Five V France, Frenchmen!” shouted General de 
Salles, waving his kepi. “ V France the French 

soldiers thundered hack in reply, hurling themselves 
over the parapet into the interior works. Then arose 
a wild roar of confused and desperate fighting. Men 
clubbed their guns and fought hand-to-hand with the 
fury of tigers. 

The Russians were driven out, and the French, 
elated with their victory, were yelling in triumph, 
when a ringing voice pealed out: “Save yourselves, 
comrades, they are going to blow us up.” As a unit, 
the French threw themselves over the parapet and 
fled. At beholding this their general grew white with 
passion. “Back, canaille!'’ he screamed, “you are 
dishonoring France ! ” 

Stung with this reproach, they wheeled and dashed 


227 


England^ Forever! 

back again under the leaden tempest which the Mus- 
covites- had recommenced. One particular battery, 
the aim of which had been readjusted, and ^was now so 
accurate that the French were destroyed deplorably — 
platoon after platoon rushed for its capture, but went 
down beneath the crushing hre. 

General de Salles moaned in agony at the sacrifice 
of his troops. ‘‘Mon Dieu! mon Dieu!” he ex- 
claimed, is their no help ? ” Again and again the 
devoted Frenchmen raised their battle-cry, Vive 
r France!” and rushed to death. Hark! like the notes 
of a trumpet, the ringing tones peal out, “England, 
forever!” 

The form of one single man was then seen to make 
a desperate spring and to gain the parapet where he 
stood among the gunners of that murderous battery 
whom, without an instant’s pause, with his vast 
strength he hurls to right and left; and with incred- 
ible swiftness — his heavy fist driving the nails home 
in the touch-holes — he spiked the guns — then, covered 
with wounds. Colonel Neville dropped among the dis- 
abled cannons. 

The French swarm up, but before the fight could 
re-commence they were drawn off. Every man was 
now needed in defense of the Malakhoft*, which strong 
defensive work the Eussians were putting forth all 
their might to wrest back. 

As the French were quickly leaving the scene of 
such frightful slaughter, one of them said, “Halte! V 
comrades^ do not let us leave the brave Englishman 
behind.” 

“ He ’s dead as a ramrod,” said another. 


228 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

‘‘ Well, what if lie is ? ’’ said the first speaker. Let 
us give him Christian burial among his own people. 
Peste ! Do n’t let ’s leave the body of such a brave 
man here wdth these carrion wolves.” 

“ They can’t hurt him now,” answered the object- 
ing voice ; ‘‘ and there are no two of us, can carry that 
big body.” 

^^Sacre, brutes! Keep back your viper hands from 
him — 1 can carry him myself,” said a slender French- 
man, rolling the inanimate form over his shoulder and 
staggering away with the burden that overweighted 
him fearfully. Yet onward he tottered — feebly, his 
limbs to the enormous strain — but his will would not 
yield. Onward, onward he struggled until reaching 
a place of safety — then Felix DvCroc sank to the ground 
and lay beside the still form of Colonel Seville. 


Nil Desperandum, 


229 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

NIL DESPERANDUM. 

And oh, to see the unburied heaps, 

On which the lovely moonlight sleeps. 

The very vultures turn away, 

And sicken at so foul a prey.” 

The lamps of heaven shone out, but they could light 
the earth beneath only feebly; through the dense 
masses of battle-smoke their beams had to struggle. 

Side by side lay the Englishman and the French- 
man. 

The cool night breezes blew gently over the up- 
turned faces of both men, that of Colonel Xeville was 
white and glistened in the moon’s pale rays like that 
of a corpse ; while Felix Durods was bathed in gore 
from deep saber cuts. 

The kindly wind revived him, and being French his 
wits were instantly at post and true to duty. ' 

He was still very faint, and had great difficulty in 
getting a small flask from his pocket, and it was not 
easy for him to carry it to his lips ; but a few swallows 
of the vin ordinaire strengthens him somewhat. 

Slowly, he raised to a sitting position and drinks 
freely of the refreshing beverage, then he is enabled to 
search for his pocket-handerkerchief and bind up his 
wounded face. 


280 ^ Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

‘^Monsieur le Colonel f said he, softly*, looking at the 
still form by his side, “ Heaven is good,” he mur- 
mured, and perhaps there is life left.” Gently, his 
hand was laid on the seat of pulsation — the heart was 
beating — a smile flits over the Frenchman’s face. The 
buckle on his belt served to unclose the clenched teeth 
and a few drops from the flask are poured between 
them. 

Felix Duroc has not much strength to spare. The 
loss of blood which had poured from his wounds was 
of itself sufl&cient to prostrate him ; added to this, the 
over-taxed muscles, yet quivering and relaxed, almost 
refused to perform their functions. Neither was he 
encouraged by any signs of reviving from the insensi- 
ble officer. He sighed, feeling that he could do no 
more. A great faintness came over him, his head 
drooped until it rested on the breast of his com- 
panion. 

When consciousness returned he heard the hooting 
of the night owls, and away off he could hear the 
echoing tread of armed men. Uncertain lights flick- 
ered in the distance, and at intervals he could hear 
reverberation as if from thunder, and a column of 
bright light would dart heavenward, illuminating the 
horizon. “ That’s the Russians,” said he, “ and Se- 
bastopol is ours.” A feeling of elation pervaded the 
exhausted frame and quickened the life-blood, chang- 
ing its slow, labored rounds into something like ani- 
mation. 

He tried to start up and give his ‘‘ Vive V France f 
but the performance was so tame as to excite his dis- 
gust. “Too far gone,” he muttered. His head 


231 


Nil Desperandum. 

drooped once more until it again rested on the heart, 
whose feeble throbs were now more distinct. Again 
the Frenchman slowly raised and wearily recom- 
menced his efforts to arouse the vital spark flickering 
almost to extinction in the English officer. 

Eepeatedly he let fall some drops from the flask 
between the teeth, less flxed than they were, and 
bathed the neck and the white face with the cooling 
wine. 

Oh ! if help would only come,” he murmured, 
feeling that his own small strength was fast giving 
away. But he knew that hours and hours must pass 
before help could come. ‘‘ Oh ! my Lord, good 
Lord ! ” he prayed, ‘‘just a little more strength ! ” 

More strength did come, but it was the strength 
of delirium. 

When, with the morning light, relief came, Colonel 
iTeville was entirely conscious and lying quite still, 
while the Frenchman was sitting bolt upright, chat- 
tering the unintelligible language of fever, and chafing 
his empty flask with unceasing effort. 

Captain Raymond had passed the entire night, lan- 
tern in hand, exploring the depth of dead bodies, ten 
or fifteen deep, at the fatal Central Bastion ; but the 
corpses all wore French uniforms. With the first 
gleam of day he clambered up among the now silent 
guns. The still bodies here were clad, mostly, in the 
Russian grey, though scattered among them, not 
a few — all hostility forever over — were those wearing 
the livery of France. 

“ Oh ! Harry,” he cried aloud, ‘* Harry ! Harry ! ” 


232 Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

he called, again and again, his voice almost rising to 
a shriek. 

He was heard by a relieving party just arrived to 
take the place of those who had been laboring in 
overhauling that mound of humanity, to see if there 
was life any where left. One of the number had wit- 
nessed the carrying away of the English volunteer, 
and quickly answered, pointing the direction, That 
way, monsieur^ I saw V A'^^gloi^ taken that way.” 

Quickly springing from the parapet, and taking the 
direction indicated. Captain Raymond almost ran for 
less than a half-furlong when, to his joy, he saw the 
beloved English uniform prone on the ground spark- 
ling with gathered dew-drops and glittering in the 
bright sunlight. 

“ Thank God !” he exclaimed, gratefully, when he 
saw the trembling eye-lids open, thank God, that he 
is alive, for while there is life there is hope.” 

‘‘ Ray, is that you.^” the white lips whispered. 

And this is the strong man of yesterday, so stricken 
down that a new-born babe is scarce more helpless. 

Be quiet, Harry ; do not waste your strength. I 
must get a surgeon to you at once. The Frenchman, 
too, needs looking after,” and with gentle force Cap- 
tain Raymond placed Felix Duroc in a horizontal po- 
sition. He greatly objected, much preferring to sit 
up, there was something he wished to do; and much 
that he wished to say concerning Brown” — 
‘‘Najpoleon le Grand ''’ — some children, and ‘‘the holy 
Roman Catholic Church.” “For your life, Harry, 
keep still. I will soon be back. I am off now after 
a surgeon and some means to remove you.” 


233 


Nil Desperandum. 

^‘One moment, Ray,” was faintly murmured. “I 
am bad off, I know, but promise me, if I get out of 
the examining surgeon’s hands alive, to put me on 
board the first vessel bound for France.” 

“ England, you mean?” 

No, I mean France — I may live until I get to 
Paris.” 


20 


234 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left, 


CHAPTER XXXni. 

JUSQUE X LA MORT. 

“ One hour of passion, so sacred is worth, 

Whole ages of heartless, wandering bliss; 

And oh, if there be an elysium on earth. 

It is this! it is this !” 

Lively Paris has got to be sober; her killed and 
wounded sons on the Crimea have friends who mourn 
their loss or deplore their suffering. 

The French army is not made up of social dregs 
and the refuse of all classes. 

The bravest and best of that fair land, when France 
calls on her sons to fight her battles, blithely respond 
to the invitation, and with musket and knapsack 
march to the blood-red field. 

All public places where news can be had are 
thronged, and ‘‘What news from the Crimea?” is the 
oft recurring question. 

A carriage is slowly passing along one of the 
crowded rues. Look into it, for there, seated in her 
regal beauty, is Madame Gabriel la 3Iarquise L Hebert. 
If she has passed sleepless nights and suflered from 
the cravings of her proud, hungry heart, there is no 
tale-bearer on that Sphinx-like face. Anxieties had 
tortured her. Yet pjide was the twin-sister of her 
love, and although powerless to crush it out, was ever 


\ 


235 


Jusque ci la Mort. 

ready with resources of concealment, even to the end 
of her life, as she believed. 

She knew of Harry Neville’s good conduct — his 
praise-worthy behavior in the campaign — his gallant 
bearing in battle, and she hoped, and had taught her- 
self to pray that he might survive the war and return 
to England, his native land, with laurels enough to 
cover over the unsightly past, and that his father and 
sister, in their joy at the prodigal’s return in honor, 
would cease to think of her with scorn. 

She loved him unutterably — her heart had gone out 
to him against her will — against all her struggles. “ It 
is fate,” she murmured, ‘‘ that bitter fate which over- 
took me ere childhood was well over, and gave me in 
bondage to a wicked old man who destroyed utterly 
in me every womanly instinct. I am now no more fit 
to become a wife in deed and truth than a half-tamed 
tigress. 

Irresistibly, her thoughts went back to the old 
wrongs. 

The carriage of madame la marquise continued its 
progress, and madame continued her somber reflec- 
tions. This was an indulgence which she did not 
often accord to herself, being perfectly aware that 
whatever is of a painful nature is not rendered less so 
by brooding over it. 

‘‘At any rate,” she mused, “I have cause for thank- 
fulness to heaven for giving me great self-control, and 
I can rely upon myself for doing that which I have 
determined to do without the weak yielding so com- 
mon to women. And, after all, dispassionately consid- 
ered, a woman without mental caliber to form an 


236 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

opinion, or moral energy to defend it, must be a poor 
creature.’^ Dismissing the subject, she looked outward 
to admire the beauty of that bright morning. 

The very sparrows were twittering with gladness, 
and hopping about, too happy to be still. A few 
fleecy clouds were disporting in the sky — sailing back 
and forth — grandly tracing the blue dome with mar- 
velously beautiful tapestry. 

Suddenly, the still air is stirred by a loud detona- 
tion. Again and again the wild cannons peal out the 
jubilant roar of victory. 

Excited Frenchmen hurriedly pass to and fro. Caps 
wave. Handkerchiefs flutter. The city re-echoes 
with huzzas. 

In the distance madame la marquise observes a great 
commotion, and soon discovers it to be a clamorous 
concourse of French escorting — a guard of honor — a 
cadaverous appearing biped whose frayed and soiled 
uniform denotes a fresh arrival from the Crimea. 

‘‘ Is it possible ! ’’ she ejaculates, “ can it be Monsieur 
Felix 

Yes, it is Felix Daroc. He and many others have 
been sent back to France to be restored to health — or 
die. The hospitals are teeming with them. Others 
are seeking their homes to be nursed by friends. 

Felix Duroc quickly recognized la marquise and 
turned his footsteps toward her carriage, which had 
stopped and awaited his approach. She leaned over 
to shake hands and cordially welcome him. Her eyes 
glisten as they mark the ensignia on his old, shabby 
coat — its rents and stains of battles make it glorious 
ill her eyes, for it covered the breast of a French hero. 


237 


Jusqae d, la Mort. 

“ That ribbon,” said she, is all of glory a French- 
man can desire. And, as for loot,” she smiled, ‘Hhe 
way is easy ; yon will find Miss Brown in a state of 
complete subjection ; you have only to assert empire 
to enter into a despotic rule.” 

Felix Duroc gave a grin, intended to express extreme 
delight, but owing to the scarcely healed wounds — 
still red and protending — which intersected all over 
his face — the contortion was simply sardonic. 

But, in another instant he was serious and grave 
enough, as he related to la marquise that ‘‘ Colonel i7e- 
ville, who had been brought over by his own great de- 
sire in the same vessel in which he himself had voy- 
aged, was there in Paris, dying in Hospital Ho. 4.” 

Dying,” she repeated, every drop of blood rushing 
to her heart, leaving her cold and white. 

‘‘Yes, madame^ the surgeons say that he has not 
many hours to live. His slight chance for life was re- 
linquished when he undertook the journey. This was 
represented to him — but he would be brought over. 
It ’s a terrible pity too ” — tears stood in Felix Durods 
eyes — “ for he was the gallantest man on the Crimea.” 

The sun turned black — the earth seemed about to 
sink. 

“ I must go to him,” gasped the woman. 

Where now is her pride with its boasted self- 
control? Gone, gone, every vestige gone. 

“ Come with me,” said she, motioning Felix to en- 
ter into the carriage. 

She hid her face behind her handkerchief, but low 
moans came thick and fast. Her companion was dis- 
tressed beyond measure; yet, knowing the utter fu- 


238 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 

tility of it made no attempt at consolation, and after 
his brief instructions to the coachman, said nothing; 
ostentatiously looking out upon the crowded rues 
through which the carriage rolled, though his mind 
did not take in the passing objects. Mentally, he was 
reviewing the problem of existence, how, in the ab- 
stract, of what a small moment is the unit of one little 
human life. Yet, what joy it could carry away with 
it, and what desolation leave behind — desolation often 
to be continued without variableness or shadow of 
change until mortality putting on immortality lifts the 
vail and the grand acana then stands revealed — life’s 
problem solved. 

The halting ot the carriages recalled Felix Duroc to 
a sense of the sad duty before him. 

Remain where you are, ma chere madamef said he, 
in the sympathizing tones ever at the command of a 
good heart, “till my return,” and descending from 
the carriage, he disappeared into the building. 

In a few moments he was back again and, explain- 
ing to her that Colonel Yeville lay in an apartment 
off from the general wards, said he “ would show her 
the way.” 

Silently, they traversed passages filled with passing 
attendants and friends of the patients. 

“ He is here,” said Felix Duroc, opening a door, and 
closing it, after la marquise had entered. He remained 
without. 

For one moment the delicate instincts of her sex 
caused la marquise to hesitate. 

One hurried glance at the emaciated form seeming 


Jusque a la Mort. 239 

now to have so little more to do with earth put diffi- 
dence to flight. 

She hastened to him, and bending low until her fair 
hair mingled with his raven locks, and in sweeter tones 
than any that had ever passed lips, she murmured. 

Oh ! oh ! my love ! my own love !” 

Almost at the portals of eternity — lingering on the 
brink where life ends, the accents of this woman’s 
voice had power over him even then. 

The heavy eye-lids unclose and the weary eyes 
brighten as they turn to that enchanting face, and his 
right hand struggled forth and caught her’s in a pres- 
sure that passion rendered almost Arm. 

She brushed back his matted hair and pressed her 
proud, warm lips against his wan, chill cheek, and in 
a voice, the mournful threnody of which could not 
disguise its w^ondrous tenderness, said, Darling, 
darling, how you have suflered !” 

‘‘ ITo, dear,” he answered, I do not think I have 
suflered at all — at least I can not remember it. I now 
feel so much pleasure in the touch of your cheek 
against mine and in again holding your little hand. 
Dear, will you not stay with me — till — ?” 

Till death separates us,” she answered, quickly. 

Could you? Would you?” he spoke entreat- 
ingly and almost inarticulately. ‘‘If for only one 
moment, give me the right to call you wife ? I could, 
then, die content.” 

Without an instant’s pause, her sweet voice an- 
swered, “It shall be as you wish.” 

A glad look flushed his thin face, making it to 
shine as with the glory of a great triumph. 


240 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left, 


Short was the time, for no moment was to spare, 
when standing by that bed-side Felix Duroc witnessed 
a solemn scene — a death- bed marriage. 

The declaration that Henry Seville and Gabrielle 
(V Hebert were husband and wife, fell upon his ears in 
saddening sounds, and pityingly his eyes rested on the 
two — she in the zenith of a glorious beauty, and he, 
ah ! what a piteous remnant of what he once was ! 

The issues of life and death are from above. The 
death-angel, in his mysterious comings walks abroad 
at noon-day and strikes down from among the strong 
who dream not of his approach, and spares the pros- 
trate of disease helplessly awaiting his coming. 

The labored pulsations of a happy heart grew firm 
and stirred the life-blood in the almost disused veins 
giving a faint, far-ofi* promise of possible return to 
health and strength. At night, when there were more 
quiet and fewer passers. Colonel Heville was removed 
from the hospital. By permission of the authorities 
lines were stretched across the street to prevent travel 
and secure to the grievously wounded officer the need- 
ful quiet and rest. And we will now leave him in the 
tender hands which have elected to care for him. 


Vive V Amour. 


241 


CHAPTER XXXIY. 

VIVE l’ AMOUR. 

“ Houses and lands come from parents, 

But a good wife is a gift from God.” 

The war is over, and smiling peace invests the fair 
earth with new beauties. 

How wonderfully gladsome the sun shines in the 
garden of that pleasant German spa, where are two 
groups near together. The central figure of one is an 
English officer reclining in an easy-chair. One coat- 
sleeve is empty, and under the breast of the coat are 
several bad wounds, still green and new. A woman 
of surpassing beauty is in assiduous attendance, and 
near by are an English nobleman and his daughter. 

Sir John Xeville, for ’tis he, looks twenty years 
younger than when we last saw him, and a proud 
light fills his eyes as they test on “Harry and his 
wife.’’ Shortly, they will all journey to Carlsbad for 
Brevet- General Xeville to he renovated in the waters 
of the great Sprudel. 

To this group is added a young officer, more stal- 
wart and bronzed than when we first made his ac- 
quaintance, and Miss Xeville reads to him from a 
newspaper just received, that Captain Raymond has 
been gazetted major. 

A flush of pleasure overspreads the young officer’s 
face as he received congratulations. 

21 


242 


Some Little of the Angel Still Left. 


‘‘ Oh ! yes/’ he replied, gayly, “ an upward step in 
these piping times of peace, which have lately dawned 
upon us, is very gratifying to the humble recipient, 
while it reflects credit upon the superior discernment 
at the war office. Although I was not specially guilty 
of placing myself before others in the discharge of 
their manifest duty, yet, I did most certainly save one 
of our poor fellow’s head from being broken in. I 
have a witness here present,” said he, with a light 
laugh, looking at the invalid in the chair, who smiles 
a little. ‘‘And, Mrs. IN'eville, I do not wish to dis- 
courage you, but you have married the worst-tempered 
man ever reared in England, although he is now look- 
ing so bland.” 

This last remark sets them all ofl‘ into a merry 
laugh, which is joined in by the other group. 

This other group is the most charming one in all 
the world — a thoroughly attached elderly couple. 

The soft flush on the lady’s cheek marks the return 
of health, and monsieur le ministre de finance is 
radiantly happy. 

“ How un-English Geileral Heville looks,” remarked 
madame le ministre, “ and how handsome ! ” 

“Yes, his tout ensemble is good.” Le ministre smiled, 
remembering to have made that remark before, but 
now he added, “ He is a gallant gentleman, and I have 
no fears for Gabrielle’s happiness — there was some 
little of the angel still left.” 

Reader, I have finished my narrative. I offer you 
my hand, and respectfully ask your friendship. 


FINIS. 



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